Ruby Red and Caramel
by Juni Onigiri
Summary: In her search for decent coffee, Yaoyorozu Momo, a sleep-deprived neurosurgery resident who struggles with her self-confidence, comes across a new cafe across the street and its explosive owner. As the strange new friendship blooms between her and Bakugou Katsuki, she learns that there's more to him that meets the eye, and that there's more to her than she thought she ever knew.
1. Nitro Cold Brew

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 1 - Nitro Cold Brew

 _AN: This chapter was previously published as my rarepair month submission (day 21 - Coffee Shop AU), but with some minor edits :)_

* * *

Yaoyorozu Momo is tired. Although to say 'tired' is a severe understatement. Right now, though, she doesn't even have the mental faculties to think of a better word to describe the state that she's in.

A recap of the past 24 hours is as follows: Five brain surgeries, three of them emergencies, all of them on patients with mutation quirks that made their anatomies vastly different. A report on the genetics of brain cancer. An audit on the people that died or had gotten worse while in the wards. The looming in-service examinations for neurosurgery residents. And finally, just two hours, forty-five minutes of sleep for the past twenty-four hours, interrupted by calls from the ER. Momo would appreciate anyone who can give her a word precise and astute enough to describe how very… 'tired' she felt.

She has just hobbled out of the Hosu General Hospital, over six hours overtime, with her fellow resident Todoroki Shouto-san taking over her shift and shooing her away. Now she's lugging her large neurosurgery textbook under one arm, using her last remaining brain cells to figure out any decent place to have coffee and read her book until she collapses from exhaustion.

She hums thoughtfully as she stares at the complex of restaurants outside the hospital. Her favorite place, Satou's Coffees and Cakes, is unfortunately closed on Sundays. Monoma's _Boulangerie et Pattiserie_ also has decent coffee, but it's five blocks away. There's nothing nearby but convenience stores and fastfood joints, establishments that she dare not tread without the assistance of her colleagues who are more used to those sorts of places.

(She'd really rather not compromise her sense of taste just for a much needed shot of caffeine. Call her a 'boujee', if one must. Uraraka Ochako, OR nurse and her frequent assist, does so frequently. Good, handcrafted brews usually come at a high price.)

So it seems that there's nowhere that serves any decent liquid form of caffeine. She sighs. Perhaps it's better to head back to her apartment and brew herself a cup there, even though just thinking about making it and cleaning up after herself afterward is so, very tiring.

As she begins to walk to the direction of her condominium, she sees him for the first time.

She doesn't know why he catches her eye in a fine Sunday morning such as this. Perhaps because he's scowling so hard while wiping down the tables in front of the small cafe so aggressively that she worries he'll destroy them. Perhaps it's also the steady stream of expletives against germs and dirt that would give the Infectious Control services a run for their money.

Perhaps it's also how the man looks, which is very distinctive. Fluffy, blonde hair that goes in all directions. Red eyes that remind Momo not of blood clots (which she's had enough of), but of rubies. A nice pair of arms, with cuts of muscles that move nicely as he works on destroying the table with a dishrag. The front of his body is covered by a large, blue apron, but the doctor surmises that behind it is a nice, sturdy body to match those nice, sturdy arms. He isn't any taller than her, but he looks more than able to carry her in his arms and to throw her against-

Her surprisingly debauched, sleep-deprived thoughts are jarringly interrupted by the man's bark. "Oi, the fuck are you staring at?"

She's suddenly face-to-face with the explosive blonde. Yes, explosive is the perfect adjective to describe him, his fiery eyes and hunkering gait. His jaw juts out forward as he continues his annoyed grumbling, much like one of the grumpy English bulldogs Momo's kin kept back at the family estate.

"Oi, I'm talking to you, Ponytail. Fuckin' staring at me like I'm a circus freak." He jabs a finger at her shoulder, and she doesn't even resist against its push. Now up close, Momo catches a whiff of caramel from his body, and she's not sure if it's a comically sweet body spray or his quirk.

She's appalled so appalled by his unruly behavior that her jaw drops indignantly. Who does he think he is, stepping into her personal space, yelling at her so loudly that she feels her eardrums protest? Who has the audacity of prodding her with an accusatory finger, as if she's the hooligan between them?!

Furthermore, she did _not_ just suffer through four years of medical school and one year of grueling internship and three plus plus plus years of even more grueling neurosurgery residency to be called degrading nicknames by a hooligan. _Ponytail,_ of all things. It doesn't matter how indiscriminately attractive he is, he has absolutely no _right_ to misname her this way. She has all intentions of forming an intelligent, indignant remark, all aiming to improve his utterly repulsive conduct. "Excuse me? That's-that's Dr. Ponytail to you!"

The blonde clicks his tongue in annoyance and doesn't back down. Maybe because despite how strong her comeback sounds in her head, it still comes out weak and kind of breathy, like she's on the verge of a coma. "The hell's wrong with you? Is your brain still inside your fucking skull, or did you leave it behind in the fuckin' hospital?"

Momo holds her head in reflex. Wait, did she really just check if her brain was still there? Silly Momo, of course it'd still be there, if both her cerebral and cerebellar hemispheres and her brainstem aren't there, then she wouldn't be standing here, dumbly staring at this angry, attractive man as his abhorrent, stupidly attractive mouth dishes out one verbal abuse after another.

There's a few seconds where the man stops talking and just stares at her with an unreadable expression in those ruby-red eyes. "Hey, I'm serious, do I gotta take you to the ER or something, Ponytail? I mean, Dr. Ponytail or whatever the fuck your name is."

He's beginning to reach out for her shoulder, perhaps in an attempt to steady her, but she moves away. She remembers and relents that this confrontation is perhaps her fault-after all, she is the one who gawked at him stupidly at the sidewalk, as if she hasn't eaten anything for a week and he's a newly baked orange chiffon cake on display at Satou's Cakes and Coffees.

Internally, she tries to shake off her sudden empty-headedness and straightens her posture, in what she hopes is a dignified stance. "I apologize. It's rude of me to stare at you as you're doing your job," she manages to say without slurring.

"Yeah, no shit." Still, the man's visibly relieved that she's finally acting like a responsive human being. She notices his eyes run over her from top-to-bottom, side-to-side. "Hosu General Neurosurgery," he says flatly, as if making a show of how unimpressed he is of her 'prestigious' occupation.

There's a moment of bewilderment when she wonders how he knew, followed by a mental face-palm as she realizes that she's still wearing her rumpled scrub suit, still unchanged from the past duty.

"Must have been a long fuckin' night, huh." He scowls for a few moments, thinking deeply. Next moment he's clicking his tongue in annoyance. "Come on," is all he says before stomping his way into the cafe.

Momo manages a confused "Oh," before she follows him. The signage still reads 'Closed', and the man doesn't flip it to the other side.

The doctor looks around the cafe. It's not large, and the ceilings are a little low, but the interiors look thoughtful and cozy and warm and she instantly feels better than she has when she left the hospital. Hues of warm oranges and browns meet her eyes and make her think of autumn. Paintings of what look like fireworks and other miscellaneous explosions hang neatly over the wood-paneled walls. White block letters are displayed at the front counter, spellin E.

 _Odd name for a cafe, but it fits such an explosive barista._ As if to prove her point, the man growls at her to sit her ass down anywhere she likes. She gives him the best poisonous look that her tired visage can muster before she obliges.

She picks one of the desks a few steps away from the bar, and from her spot she once again stares at him as he works. A symphony of odd noises from the machines around him accompany his smooth movements. Momo is able to see the back of his broad shoulders, visibly flexing from within his tight black shirt as he tinkers with something or the other. Sees the intense look of concentration in those striking red eyes as he measures liquids in tiny little graded cups. She wonders passively if she's ever watched anyone make coffee before, and if anyone should look so attractive making coffee the way he's doing it then…

Oh, lord. She isn't just staring. She's _ogling_ at him. _Lecherously._ Sleep deprivation hasn't hit her this hard before. She turns away, hopefully before he notices.

She opens up her book and desperately tries to read something. Or at least, desperately tries to pretend to read something. She reads the same sentence about lymphomas over and over until she sees his lean figure enter her peripheral vision.

He sets a glass on a coaster in front of her wordlessly. "Drink," is all he says, when she looks up at him questioningly.

If she's being honest, she wants to tell him that every cell in her body is aching for a cup of warm coffee. A steaming one in a tasteful ceramic mug, as black as her hair, perhaps with a spoonful of muscovado sugar if she feels like it. Something comfortable to gently let her down from the light-headed somnolence taking over her brain.

But the coffee set in front of her is cold, with a fine layer of foam above it. She wonders if it's actually a glass of beer, until she takes in the sweet, coffee scent. She catches herself on time, thankfully-she almost gave in to the impulse of wrinkling her nose in distaste.

She supposes that the most polite thing to do for this man who's been cussing at her all morning is to at least take a sip of what seems to be his peace offering. So she does-gently, she takes a sip of the drink, and feels her mind… awaken.

 _Oh my goodness._ As the liquid touches her tongue, she feels all her senses snap awake, like a splash of cold water on a hot day. A hint of sweetness fills her mouth, but she's able to detect that isn't from added sugar or dairy. It's foamy and suave, so much so that Momo can't help a satisfied noise escape from her throat at the first swallow.

Hearing the noise, the blonde man gives her a self-satisfied smirk. "That good, huh, Dr. Ponytail?"

"Yes-this is marvelous," she tells him honestly, after daintily patting her upper lip free of foam. "The coffee's crisp, naturally creamy. If I had to guess, it's from the nitrogen you infused in the drink? It's very elegantly done. From my first sip, I'm able to ascertain a higher coffee-to-water ratio, but it's not bitter at all. The beans that you used are exquisite, if I had to guess, probably Arabica, or something from Southeast Asia… I suppose, given the name of your cafe, this is your house specialty?"

There's a very small flicker of astonishment she sees in his eyes as she gives her honest appraisal of the coffee, but in the next moment he's back to being irritatingly smug. "You got that right, brainy. Although I named this joint NTG 'cause of my quirk, not 'cause of my coffee."

Momo hums in understanding. "So… you have a nitroglycerin quirk?"

He holds his hand up, shows off the slight sheen of his sweat over his skin. He causes harmless, noisy sparks to form from it. So that explains the sweet smell that hangs off him. "As for you… let me guess. Something to do with brains, I bet."

She gives him a little teasing smile. "I don't have a mentalist quirk, if that's what you're saying."

"Nah. You don't strike me as one of those mindfuckers." He leers at her intensely, as if reading a particularly engaging thriller. She feels her cheeks redden under his gaze, and feels an impulse to train her eyes elsewhere.

After what seems like forever, he gives a low grumble that tickles her ears. "Might be a materialization quirk, I bet. Or something that lets you manipulate structures and shit."

Her eyes widen in surprise. He smirks in response. "I'll take that as a fuck yes. And before you ask, yes, I am a fuckin' genius, myself."

She pouts at him. "But how could you have guessed that? I didn't use my quirk around you. At all. Unless… you're stalking me?!"

He snaps at her. "Who's fuckin' stalking who?! You're the one who stared at me like a mouth-breather!"

Valid comeback, but it doesn't ease her discomfort. She's painfully reminded of one of the patients she'd seen as a first year resident-a small, purple-haired guy with a sticky-hair quirk who they needed to see after he was beaten up for peeking in the women's lockers of a local gym, and who then proceeded to stalk her for weeks until her friends from the Orthopedics department (Shouji-san, Tetsutetsu-san, and Awase-san especially) scared him off. Just remembering it makes her give in to the impulse to push her seat a little farther from the blonde barista, who has the gall to look as offended as she feels. "You say that, but I've been through awful things before. And you aren't answering my question, _Nitro_."

The man clicks his tongue in annoyance. "Geez. Whatever. Fuck." He rubs his face, as if it's too early for such bold accusations, and grumbles out, "You got the instinct for figuring out the components of something. That's what material quirk users tend to do. Believe me, I know a freak who fucks around with fabrics and shit, and every time he touches cloth he'd go on and on about the compositions of the textiles or whatever."

Oh. That makes sense. Momo visibly relaxes and releases a breath from her relieved lungs. "I see… Well… I suppose you aren't a stalker after all, Barista-san."

 _Fabrics and shit_ , as he put it so eloquently - that's like her senior consultant, Dr. Hakamata. AKA Best Jeanist, the acclaimed neurosurgeon whose unparalleled genius, strict work ethic, and seamless sutures both inside and outside of the brain, have saved many a person's life.

Also, the most toxic of all her consultants in the hospital. She thinks he's brilliant, but just the sight of blue jeans makes her and even Todoroki go into arrhythmia. She tries to shake off that image from her head and focuses instead on the exquisite coffee, and the grumpy blonde sitting in front of her with his teeth bared.

"Yeah. There's only one stalker in here, and it sure ain't me." He says this with an annoyingly self-satisfied smirk though. Before Momo can retort, the bell chimes from the door.

"Bakugou?" A melodic voice calls from the entrance. Momo watches as a smaller woman with dark hair, dark eyes, elongated earlobes, and an asymmetric fringe makes a show of freezing mid-stride. "Um… am I _that_ late? I didn't know we opened this early on Sundays."

The man- _Bakugou,_ Momo repeats in her head, smiling a little at how appropriate his name is for his larger-than-life personality-snarls at the employee. Really, can this man speak normally without making any dog-like sounds? "We ain't open yet, fuckin' Ears! Just that Ponytail here's gonna die on the street if I didn't give her coffee! And to answer your question, you're fucking late, since I got here before you."

Despite the verbal lashings, the girl doesn't seem fazed in any shape or form. She shrugs off her leather jacket, showing off toned arms covered in tattoos, and puts her hand out in front of Momo. "So I guess you're a special customer, Doc? I'm Jirou, I'm one of the part-timers here. Please ignore my stupid-ass boss. We're happy to serve you."

Momo smiles as politely as she can and takes her hand. "I'm Yaoyorozu Momo. But please, call me Momo. I work at Hosu Gen. And don't worry, I'm enjoying myself here."

"That's good. I'm real worried that we won't get any customers if we let our very _polite_ cafe owner interact with the masses," she says, nudging her grumpy boss at the shoulder, "so I'm relieved that you're too spaced-out to be offended by this guy, Yaomomo."

Momo laughs heartily at her remark. She doesn't mind also being called _Yaomomo_ -somehow, the playful name fits her, and fits the other girl's personality for thinking of that. She has a feeling that she'll like Jirou very much. "Oh, I'm offended enough, but thank you for your concern."

"Whatever, Dr. Ponytail," grumbles Bakugou under his breath. He stands up and almost pokes Jirou in her eyes with two fingers. "You. Start prepping the damn place. I gotta go in the office to do accounting shit."

Jirou sarcastically salutes him like the world's most reluctant soldier and leaves to dress up for work. Bakugou then turns his ruby-red eyes to Momo. "And you. Wouldn't stand up if I were you. Just sit your ass down and drink up for as long as you need to."

"A… all right," stammers Momo, unsure if what came out of his mouth was an order, a threat, or a concerned plea. She watches as his strong figure moves towards the back of the counter, pulls off the apron over his head - oh lord, that small bit of his back that she sees when he lifts his arms up are made of pure muscle - and disappears into the office.

"So, Yaomomo-"

Momo yelps and whips her head to Jirou, who is now dressed in her barista regalia, consisting of a simple white collared shirt, jeans, and a similar navy blue apron. Somehow, the girl's already got a broom out, ready to prepare for the day, and Momo hasn't even noticed. Wait, how long has she been staring at Bakugou again?

"I see you're enjoying the view," continues Jirou, a shit-eating grin on her face.

Momo covers her face in shame. Has she been that obvious? And since when has she picked up this unseemly habit of ogling? "Oh, I'm so embarrassed…" she mumbles. "It's just, I _don't_ see that type of thing a lot outside the hospital, so…"

Yes, that must be it. It's not that the staff of Hosu Gen are filled with unattractive people. Far from it, actually-some tabloids have made a feature about how unfairly attractive the doctors of their hospital are (admittedly, it's not very good journalism). Todoroki-kun, who doesn't show his face outside of work, even has a fan page made by his very enthusiastic patients. But seeing them everyday, under harsh and stressful conditions, doesn't do anything for Momo's interest in dating or even just a sense of attraction.

Jirou snorts, interrupting her flow of thought. "I get it. Baku-boss isn't bad looking. Even I, a screaming lesbian, can attest to that as much. It's too bad he's a nuke waiting to happen. Hey, maybe you should check out his brain or something-maybe there's something there you have to chop off to make him… you know, _not_ like that?"

Momo giggles. "You have a good point, Jirou-san!"

"I fucking heard that-get the fuck back to work, Ears!" bellows Bakugou from the office at the back.

Momo and Jirou look at each other and break out into muffled giggles. "Anyway, he's right. I should get back to work," the girl says, brandishing her broom in mock enthusiasm. "I also agree that you probably need to sit down as long as you like, Doc. I can tell that you just went through a tough tour of duty."

"That bad?"

"Yeah." Jirou raises her eyebrows and gives another salute. "We're opening in a bit, so I hope it won't be too messy. Say bye to us before you go home, okay?"

"All right," Momo says, giving the blunt barista a little wave before she leaves her alone to do prep work. The young doctor then turns her attention back to the long-neglected neurosurgery textbook in front of her, and continues to struggle through the chapters.

Later, the cafe opens, and people start to mill about all around her. There aren't many people coming in-it's a Sunday morning after all, and the cafe is relatively new, so nothing and no-one stops her from nodding off in her seat. She's finished the nitro cold brew by this time, and as refreshing as it is, all the exhaustion of the past week catches up to her. By what must be the fifteenth time her forehead hits the wooden surface of the desk, she smells caramel near her before she feels a not-so-gentle prod at her back.

She sits up, bleary-eyed, and stares at the explosive barista-no, cafe owner, who's frowning down at her. "Oi, Ponytail. I think it's time you went home."

"Mmhm," she replies quite eloquently, rubbing her eyes. "I'm not done studying yet…"

"If I let your stubborn ass study any longer, your brain's gonna bleed out from hitting the desk." He isn't wearing his work clothes, she realizes, when he pulls her to her feet and grabs the heavy textbook from her. "Oi, Ears. You're in charge while I'm gone. The place better be standing when I get back."

"You got it, Baku-boss," Jirou calls out nonchalantly. She looks up briefly and gives Momo a knowing smile before she writes out a name on a paper cup.

In the next moment, Bakugou is holding on to her arm quite roughly and is dragging her out of her seat. "B-Bakugou-san? What are you doing?" Momo manages to stammer out as he leads them out of the cafe.

"I'm kickin' you out of the premises, is what," he tells her gruffly as they reach the street. "Doctor or not, people aren't allowed to pass out in my damn cafe. I don't like taking paying customers to the fuckin' ER. Now, where do you live?"

"I-what?"

He makes an annoyed sound with his tongue and glares at her. "I need to make sure you get home without hurting your ass, _Doc._ Fuckin' hell, doctors are the _worst_ when it comes to taking care of themselves…"

There's some animosity when he says the line about doctors. Momo wonders about this briefly before having second thoughts, and instead saying, "Oh, you don't have to, really-"

Bakugou glares at her, teeth bared. "What, you think I'll fucking stalk you or some shit like that? I though I've established that I'm _not_ interested in you that way-"

"It's not that," Momo says as gently as she can. "It's just that… we're literally a stone's throw away from my home."

She points to a particularly tall building a block away from where they're standing-a residential complex built especially for doctors who need to be close to Hosu Gen for emergencies. It's a little run-down, and the space isn't as big as Momo is used to, but it's convenient enough that she can sleep in a few precious minutes longer than if she lived in the Yaoyorozu Manor, which is four stations away.

Seeing the ridiculous proximity to his own cafe, Bakugou scowls and mutters something about her not saying so earlier. "Then get your ass the fuck back home, Dr. Ponytail. Ain't moving from here til I see you there."

"All right. That's nice of you, Bakugou-san." Momo gives him an amused smile. Odd that this barista, who gave her hell for breathing in the same space as him just a couple of hours before, is suddenly acting like a decent human being. Maybe Jirou's right-there might be a switch inside his brain somewhere that needs to be rewired or something.

Bakugou only gives an annoyed _tch,_ gives her book back, and does a shooing motion. Momo takes this as her cue to start walking.

When she reaches the lobby and turns around, she sees Bakugou from a distance, still hulking about outside his cafe with his hands in his pockets. She gives him a quiet wave of a hand and a grateful smile. He just nods gruffly and goes back to the cafe without another word or gesture, as if she doesn't exist.

 _Well. Isn't he a rude one,_ thinks Momo as she makes her way to inside the condominium unit with a little annoyed scowl. Yet, when the guard asks her if something good happened today, she's able to give a little smile and what the guard says is a mysterious twinkle in her eye.

When she wakes up from her duty-induced coma in the next sixteen hours, she makes up her mind to visit the NTG Cafe again.

* * *

 **AN:** First foray into Bakumomo! I got so invested in the AU that I'm planning to write two multichapter fics simultaneously and have grand plans to make other stories in the same universe too omg I just hope I get to finish as much as I can before the holidays kick in

This story is closely related to "Peony Pink and Cherry Blossom Tea" (the Todochako part of this series), but you don't need to read that to understand this story

I hope you enjoy this self-indulgent romcom T_T i'll try to keep it lighthearted this time


	2. Chili Garlic Buttered Shrimp

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 2: Chili Garlic Buttered Shrimp

 _AN: Some scenes also appear in the Todochako series (Peony Pink and Cherry Blossom Tea) - but you don't need to read that one to understand this one hehehe_

* * *

When the young doctor wakes up at 2 in the morning, bleary-eyed, disoriented, hungry and thirsty like she collapsed in the middle of the Gobi Desert, she instantly evaluates the busy week she has ahead of her. She realizes that she has so many things to do-patients to follow up, paperworks due, journals to critique-that she barely has enough time to perform the most necessary of all the activities of daily living. Again, the thought of quitting her residency whispers to her at the back of her mind, but she shakes it off as she usually does, and allows herself a small sniffle before moving on.

Never mind planning a nice, quiet visit to the cafe across the street. For coffee purposes purely, of course, and to get some studying done. And not just to maybe… _definitely_ stare at the intriguing personification of an explosion who runs the cafe. Who may or may not have had an appearance in her dreams that night. Dreams which are steamy hot and cold-brew cold, loud and brash and red, him cornering her against a wall, carrying her in those arms and throwing her against the-

She bites down on a leftover _croque monsieur_ and gives her forehead a hearty slap. Really, Momo? Two in the morning, disoriented, malnourished, and dehydrated, and your dirty dreams of Bakugou-san are the first things to enter your mind? You've only met him once, Momo, can you please calm down? Surely there are more important… more significant… less _thirsty_ … things that warrant your attention, Momo?

In any case, the lightheaded woman thinks that now is a good time to try to get some work done-once again, she's assigned by the hospital to present in the next clinical-pathological conference in two days. And she hasn't even finished her second run-through of the presentation! Unacceptable, Momo, you're so far behind, you don't have time for your silly dreams involving explosive, ridiculously attractive men in coffee shops!

Honenuki-san, ever calm and rational, has told her time and again to stop taking on so much work. Loosen her standards a little bit. All of her presentations are more than perfect anyway, he tells her, and the hospital should pay her double for the quality of work she gives them. But she can't help herself-discussions and oral presentations are the one thing she's good at. Hopefully, doing well in these things would cover up how nervous she is in performing actual surgeries.

(She doesn't want to say so, but she isn't like him or Todoroki-san, who are confident enough to lead surgeries without a senior consultant watching over them.)

So with that prolonged self-assessment, she sits down, takes a deep breath. Erases her mind free of her insecurities and her worthless day dreams and exhaustion. She opens her laptop and begins to work.

* * *

The week passes by in a blur. As expected, she's given a standing ovation in the conference and another nice certificate with her name on it. And as expected, the rest of the time she's scolded by their training officer Dr. Hakamata and their anxious chief resident Amajiki-senpai for not appearing confident enough when she's doing surgeries.

The dark-haired chief even invited her to sit down with him in the safe, private confines of their call room to ask her if anything's wrong. "You're really good at what you're doing, Yaoyorozu," he tells her, as he stubbornly keeps his face next to the wall behind them. "So I don't get why you don't think the same way."

Her self-confidence issues must be something else if Dr. Amajiki Tamaki, of all people, finds the need to call her out on them. Momo, this is a person who has to psych himself into thinking that all his patients' heads are potatoes just so he could be functional enough to open them up. She scolds herself; she really needs to evaluate her life and choices by this point.

"I do my best, Amajiki-senpai," is all she's able to say.

"You need to do more than that." The nervous tremor in his voice is apparent. "As you know, villains are still going around like crazy. Innocent people get attacked out of nowhere everyday, and that's not the worst they can do. You never know when we all have to answer to another mass casualty incident. When that happens, do you think we can leave you to tend to critical patients on your own?"

She knows she has the know-how to do so, but her heart trembles just thinking about making all the decisions on her own. So many bad outcomes may happen even if she does the proper method-what if she misses something vital in the chaos? So before she can stop herself, she shakes her head. Amajiki-senpai sighs.

"... think about your dreams a little more, Yaoyorozu." His tone is stern, but kind at the same time. "For the meantime, I'm giving your tumor case to Todoroki. Endorse the case to him properly."

She doesn't even have the will to protest. She bows, apologizes to the chief, and takes her leave.

* * *

And so it happens that Todoroki, still exhausted from the duty that's passed, becomes the first assist to Dr. Fukukado Emi (aka. Dr. Joke, because her quirk has infamously once caused her OR staff to laugh so much they have to be relieved by another team), to perform tumor removal on a patient she's managed for the past week. She doesn't feel too bad about it, and she learned new things just standing in the background and listening to Dr. Fukukado as she performs.

 _She's so confident,_ she remembers thinking in admiration, as she watches her carefully scoop out the tumor with a smile in her eyes. _I wonder if I'll ever be like that…_

She tells herself off for being so weak, and tells herself off for telling herself off. She sees Uraraka give her a concerned look before turning her attention back to the procedure.

When the long procedure is over, Dr. Fukukado leaves them to do the sutures on the patient. Momo patiently holds up the thread as Todoroki stitches up the patient smoothly.

"Great job, Todoroki-san," she says, just to fill the empty air between them. "It looked like a difficult case. You and Dr. Fukukado make a great team."

He makes his usual quiet hum from behind his mask. "You would have done it better than me, Yaoyorozu."

"Don't tease me," she whines, moving her arm accordingly as Todoroki makes another stitch. "Amajiki-senpai doesn't think I'm ready for this. He probably has a good reason to think so."

"Amajiki-senpai doesn't know what he's talking about," the dual-toned doctor says flatly. "All he knows is performing surgeries on potatoes and grapes. He probably thinks you're an onion, Yaoyorozu. An entirely new vegetable he doesn't understand."

It isn't even the best joke, but the deadpan delivery makes it. That earns him a timid giggle from her, and a louder, unrestrained guffaw from Nurse Uraraka, who is doing a recount of all the surgical instruments. "Don't say that about our chief, Todoroki-san! Uraraka-san might not be able to look him in the eye after this," she chides gently.

"Oh-d-don't worry 'bout me, Dr. Yaomomo! I don't think you're an onion…" she stammers in a daze, followed by an embarrassed little squeal when she realizes how _non sequitur_ her answer is. Her cheeks are suddenly noticeably pink and impossibly round, even with the mask on.

"W… well… I certainly hope you don't, Uraraka-san," Momo answers as politely as she can.

The girl nods, and gets back to murmuring numbers over her tray. Across from her, Todoroki noticeably pauses mid-stitch, before shaking his head and continuing his sutures.

 _Seven hours of surgery_ is _a long time,_ Momo concludes. _The two of them must be so tired to be this distracted._ Feeling another pang of guilt for her lack of confidence, she makes up her mind to treat Todoroki to lunch later.

* * *

His blood sugar must be at an all-time low, because Todoroki Shouto is still spacing out all throughout endorsements to the ICU team. There's a glazed look in his eyes, which has an even more impenetrable layer of unreadability over them. It's subtle, but there's a zombie-like quality to his gait as they move out into the hallway.

 _This is my fault,_ Momo thinks anxiously as she regards her batchmate. _I should really get my act together. I can't rely on him or Honenuki-san forever._ "I'll treat you to anything you like, Todoroki-san. You can't be sick now-you have that event with Endeavor tonight, right?"

He snaps out of his odd state briefly and allows an annoyed look enter his eyes. Although annoyance isn't the ideal emotion she preferred Todoroki to be wearing, it's definitely better than the lack of expression he has before. "Don't remind me. I'd rather go on perpetual duty for a month than to go to that gala. Maybe I can convince Honenuki to switch duties with me."

She gives an amused little giggle. For the past month, he has been openly dreading the Pro Heroes Gala-one of the biggest, glitziest events in Japan, and a particularly important one for his family. After all, it's held in honor of Endeavor, the present #1 hero and his father. "You shouldn't. If you don't go, I doubt that the situation with him would get any better. And it's just a few hours, right? Speaking of which, have you found someone to come with you yet?"

"No, none at all." Having known him for the past three years, Momo is able to appreciate the most minuscule changes on Todoroki's face when he turns to her. It isn't much, but she knows he's trying to give her his best pleading look. "You can still come with me, Yaoyorozu. There's still time."

She feels absolutely sorry when she says, "I really can't, Todoroki-san… you know I have a report to finish by tonight, and besides, once Endeavor _assumes_ we're together-"

It's already a Sisyphean task in itself to convince the rest of the hospital that she and Todoroki are merely close friends and colleagues with no romantic inclinations for each other. She shudders to think of what would happen if the #1 Hero were to spread the word to the media that she is dating his beloved son, who prematurely ended his pro-hero career in favor of a medical degree, seemingly out of nowhere.

She doesn't want to deal with all the ugly gossip and conspiracy theories, not when she has her own troubles to face.

"We can pretend to have a messy breakup tomorrow," Todoroki offers.

That has been the game plan from the start. A plan that is prone to disastrous misunderstandings with potential repercussions that will definitely extend beyond the hospital. "You know that's not going to work. Your father… well, he's already interested enough with my quirk, and he's… um…"

She doesn't want to remember that little incident. She thinks that there's a permanent empty space in her left arm from making so many Matryoshka dolls the first time she met Endeavor face-to-face.

"An asshole." Todoroki makes another face, bordering on disgust. Momo has an inkling of the circumstances that led him to say so, so perhaps he is actually already being kind with his choice of vocabulary. "It's okay. You're allowed to say so."

"Doesn't mean I will," she says. Profanity is still unladylike, after all. She really wants to change the subject now, before Todoroki gets any more ideas. "By the way, about our next duty-"

 _"-ponytail. Paging Dr. Ponytail, please go to information."_

She freezes mid-step as her brain processes the announcement. Wait, did they really just-

 _"Paging Dr. Ponytail, to information please."_

They did. Wait- _he_ did. Did he? What is he-why would he-would he really dare…?

 _"I can't believe that man, how improper!"_

All sorts of emotions, all of them hot and thrilling, flood through her veins and into her chest.

Suddenly, she's speedwalking in the hallway with her heels clacking angrily with her stride. She barely hears Todoroki behind her, asking her something that she doesn't understand.

When she gets there in the blink of an eye, she stumbles into a strange scene-Awase-san of Orthopedics arguing with a man with a familiar head of blonde hair, a broad, broad back, and a navy blue apron. Patients and hospital staff alike are staring at the scene with obvious discomfort. How unbecoming! This is… unacceptable behavior to show in a place of healing!

As soon as she stops in front of them with a final angry clack of her right heel, they turn to her simultaneously, both of them stunned momentarily by her stance.

Todoroki also makes a stunned little noise behind her, when she puts her hands to her hips and wills away all the default gentleness her demeanor has. "Bakugou-san!"

She thinks she sounds authoritative enough-at least authoritative enough that the argument between the two men comes to a halt. But while Awase continues to stare at her in shock, Bakugou has an absolutely _incorrigible_ smile on his face.

 _Oh lord, that smile._ Momo is stunned that she suddenly wants to wax poetic about his smile, but is instantly unable to. And not just that. His crouch too. His strong arms. His glinting, spice-red eyes. Oh my, she doesn't remember that he looked _this good._

Is it because she was sleep-deprived and on the brink of collapse during their last interaction? Is it because a week passed by without seeing him, except in her silly dreams and occasional hypnagogic hallicunations?

She should be angry-her ponytail has never felt so insulted in its life, and the absolute audacity to misuse the paging system of a busy government hospital should exponentially increase her annoyance towards this man-yet she fights the impulse the corners of her mouth suddenly has to curl upward.

And Bakugou obviously notices, if the way his stride got just a little more overbearing.

"See, Headband Fucker? Told you she'd get it." He briefly gives Awase a smug, victory grin before he saunters over closer to her.

Awase doesn't give up, though. He seems to make a concerted effort to keep his natural _protect-Yaoyorozu_ instinct at bay-it's all that keeps him from welding the guy to the floor, it seems, Momo sees that he's already making that face. He gives her a questioning look (a _what did you do to get yourself involved with this idiot, Yaoyorozu?_ look, to be precise) before he spits out, "What kind of a moron would page a good and proper doctor by that nickname?!"

Bakugou ignores him, and trains those ruby-reds to hers. "So, Dr. Ponytail. You ain't on call today, right?"

She catches a whiff of his natural, burning caramel scent, and suddenly it's a little harder to keep her anger stance steady. _Don't condone his behavior, Momo._ She keeps her voice and her gaze as steady as she can as she answers, "I'm _not,_ but… Why do you ask, Bakugou-san?"

"That's all I need to know."

The heat that suddenly encases her hand catches her by surprise, making her yelp. Oh, the grip on her hand is strong, very strong-it takes all of her presence of mind to hold on to the last dregs of her dignity and to not stumble like a fool behind him.

He stops only once to tell Todoroki, "You can cover for her, right Dr. Blackjack?"

 _Dr. Blackjack?_ Thinks Momo within the daze. _Kind of old school…_

Todoroki must have quietly gestured in the affirmative, because Bakugou bares his teeth in that devilish grin of his. "Fuck yeah. Come on, Dr. Ponytail."

"B-but-Todoroki-san isn't-"

"He says he'll cover for you, all right?! And we're just across the street, you can run through traffic if their dumbasses manage to mess things up while you're not here-"

Momo looks back at Todoroki with what she hopes is a look of utter _betrayal._ She is surprised that Todoroki would just willingly give up his precious flabbergasted batchmate so easily like that… but then again, this is Todoroki Shouto, who tends to avoid arguments just so he could keep his daily average of 500 spoken words per day.

Her dual-toned colleague processes the look she gives him for a moment, and in response gives her a little wave of a hand. "Honenuki and I got this. Have fun, Yaoyorozu."

 _Have fun, he says._ She wants to give him another look to tell him _you're grossly misunderstanding this, Todoroki-san,_ but she doesn't get a chance to, as in the next millisecond, Bakugou speedwalks her out the door, and into the street.

* * *

The NTG Cafe is a little busier than it was the last time Momo passed by. It's good progress, she supposes. She didn't notice how it was doing at all, because it's closed in the early mornings and late nights that Momo walks past it, going to the hospital and back.

The lunch rush is over by the time he drags her in. There are other customers quietly drinking coffee, reading books, and taking photos of elaborate pastries on their plates. Bakugou deposits her in the unoccupied desk she chose last Sunday. "Don't move," he tells her like a threat, before he disappears out back.

So she doesn't.

 _Excuse me, Momo, this man just insulted you and your hairstyle and your friend's hairstyle inside the sacred hospital grounds, kidnapped you, took you out of your post and made you break the rules, and is now vaguely threatening you with absolutely nothing. Momo, shouldn't you be fuming right now?_

Yes, she's fuming. Of course she's fuming. She's absolutely livid. Red-faced, steam coming out of her ears. Insulted beyond-

"Hey, Dr. Yaomomo. Whatcha smilin' about?"

She feels her ponytail twitch a little at the remark. She turns to face a familiar dark-haired barista, smirking at her from the counter behind her.

"Jirou-san!" Her annoyance ebbs away a little bit. "I haven't seen you in a while. How are you?"

"Good, good. Business isn't as slow as I thought it would be. Who would've thought that Baku-boss could keep his rage in check enough to be a decent server, eh?" Jirou Kyouka's ear-jacks sway in amusement as she regards the doctor. "More importantly, doc, how are you? You didn't visit us at all since last Sunday. I got worried that he actually poisoned your coffee and you died, or something-"

Momo chuckles and shakes her head. "Oh, Jirou-san, work's just been _terribly_ busy, you have no idea… believe me, I wanted to visit you earlier than this, but I barely come home on time as it is…"

Jirou nods sagely. "I guess that's just the neurosurgeon life for ya. I guess I should be amazed that Bakuboss managed to drag you outta there like this, even for a short while."

She hums in contemplation. "He's… very convincing…?"

"Coercive? Overbearing? Dictatorial? Despotic?"

Momo turns to the seat in front of her, and gasps when she sees that it's already occupied by a new character-a man in the same navy blue apron and uniform as Jirou, with a shock of bright, blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, wiggling eyebrows, and a smile that can only be described as…

"Stupid." Jirou sighs. By this time she's made her way to their table and pats Momo on the back apologetically. "Kaminari, don't just butt in our conversation like that. We barely get respectable people in this cafe as it is, 'cause of you and Bakuboss-"

" _Whey._ You are downright cruel, Jirou." Kaminari gives the girl an odd, empty look, before switching over to one of pure flirtatiousness. He wiggles his eyebrows again and leans over to Momo and holds out his hand. "Don't mind the blatant workplace bullying, doc. Name's Kaminari Denki. Some days I'm a freelance writer. Most days I'm the best barista here, only next to Baku-boss and Jirou."

"I see. Nice to meet you. I'm Yaoyorozu Momo," she says, politely taking his hand. "Out of curiosity, how many of you work here?"

"Just us three."

"Ah." The confused look she gives Kaminari must have been entertaining, because she hears Jirou barely keeping it together behind her. "Well… I work at Hosu Gen as a neurosurgery resident. Thank you for having me here."

A look of enlightenment is suddenly apparent in the blonde's features-his jaw drops momentarily, and then a mischievous grin replaces it. "Oh… so it's you! Man! I gotta tell ya, Dr. Yaomomo, I need to thank _you,_ not the other way around. If Baku-boss didn't spend so much time waiting for you to come back-"

"Jamming Whey-" Jirou begins warningly.

"-and like, watching out for you across the street like an absolute _stalker_ , then he'd have killed me by now-OW, Jirou, did you just try to gouge my eyes out with your ears?!"

"Idiot, Jamming Whey!" Jirou clamps her hand roughly over Kaminari's face, muffling any other incriminating words that spill out. She gives Momo a contrite look, and says, "Pretend you didn't hear that, Yaomomo. Oh my god Kaminari you absolute donut!"

"Mmphmhmph!" says the blonde eloquently. Sparks of electricity emerge from his arms in retaliation, but this doesn't hurt the dark-haired barista. She's able to pull him out of the chair, just as Bakugou comes out of the back, carrying a tray.

"The fuck?" the boss says, giving his employees a deadly glare. "You fuckin' idiots slackin' off again?"

"Sorry, Bakuboss," Jirou says amidst the struggle. "Let me just kill Kaminari quickly at the back, and I'll get back to the counter."

"... 3 minutes."

"More than enough." Jirou drags Kaminari out, as promised, earning them a few stares from the customers in the cafe. Thankfully, none of them leave.

Bakugou doesn't give them a second glance as he puts the tray down and takes the now-vacant seat across her. "All right," he says gruffly, handing her a cutlery set, wrapped in a paper napkin. "Eat."

Momo stares at him incredulously, and then at the food in front of her-chili garlic buttered shrimp. "… excuse me?"

The explosive blonde makes a _tch_ sound-one of his go-to sounds, Momo observes. He grabs her hand and shoves the utensils in her hand.

"Come on. It ain't gonna be good cold," he grumbles, keeping his eyes away from hers suddenly.

"The shells are on," she notes cautiously.

"Yeah they are." He glares at her sternly, as if she did something terrible and force-feeding her delicious-smelling crustaceans is her punishment. He says nothing more, and looks determined to stare her down until she takes a bite to eat.

She is disconcerted at this turn of events, but says nothing. He is certainly an impolite man, but it will certainly be more impolite to refuse his offering. Hasn't this situation happened before, Momo?

She takes the fork and knife and skillfully separates the shells from the flesh, cutting off a small portion of shrimp and a lot of crispy garlic on top. She gives him her best distrusting look and then brings it to her mouth.

She doesn't know what exactly transpires at the first burst of flavor in her mouth, but an undignified moan escapes from her mouth, her ponytail swings around excitedly, and she couldn't stop herself from chewing and swallowing and taking a bite again.

Across from her, Bakugou has that smug little smirk on his face again. "That good, huh, Dr. Ponytail?"

Momo rolls her eyes at him, but doesn't stop eating. And she believes in giving credit where credit is due. "This is amazing, Bakugou-san! The shrimp is marvelously cooked, the butter is indulgent, but just right… the heat from the chili is intense at the first bite, as is the garlic, but by the time I chew and chew, I want more of it! Is it the spices that you used? If I had to guess, Sichuan peppercorns?"

Bakugou raises his eyebrows. "You got it, Brainy. It ain't just your run-of-the-mill Sichuan spice mix, though. It has my own little twist to it."

"I can tell. The heat is… intense."

But not as intense as the gaze that the blonde is giving her then. She momentarily forgets the spices in her mouth when she meets it. "I gotta say, Dr. Ponytail, I'm impressed. Most of the extras tap out at the first bite."

"I have some tolerance for spicy food," she answers before she gives him a withering look. "Also… 'Extras'? Really? Must you be so… acerbic?"

"I'm just saying. 'Sides, I can be as acerbic as I want since I'm the one feeding ya, ain't I?"

She gives a hearty harrumph and sticks her nose as high up in the air as her manners will allow. "I never asked you to feed me like I'm a stray animal you're obliged to care for, Bakugou-san."

She freezes when he leans over close to her. She holds her breath when he raises his hand, and suddenly pokes the tip of her nose with a finger. "Big words for someone who just shelled and polished off half a pound of shrimp in five minutes."

She stares at her plate, filled with nothing but shells and shrimp heads. She feels her face heat up, and she couldn't entirely blame the spices for it. "Oh my-I apologize-my manners-well, it's your fault, if you didn't make it so delicious, I wouldn't have-"

He laughs at her then, something different from his gruff, mocking ones. Momo almost drops her fork at the difference the mirth makes in his demeanor-she couldn't take her eyes off from the crease in his eyes, the genuine upturn of his mouth, the sound of his voice without the layer of sandpaper of it. "God, you're somethin' else, aren't ya, Brainy? It's like I fed a gerbil or something. You barely stopped stuffing your face to breathe!"

She puffs her cheeks. "A gerbil! Well I never, you… you Pomeranian!"

Bakugou stops mid-laugh to glare at her and the source of two distinct guffaws from behind her. "The fuck are you callin' a Pomeranian, haa?! That's it, open up, I'm takin' back all those shrimp from your guts-"

She doesn't stop giggling, even when he leans threateningly towards her and threatens to blow off the faces of his employees with his bare hands-or so he says. Eventually, they calm down, and her eyes naturally fall over his.

"Thank you," she tells him genuinely. "I feel much better now. At least, better than yesterday… which is saying a lot."

"I figured. Your ponytail's not as miserable looking now." He says it nonchalantly, as if it's so natural for him to deduce her moods. Momo remembers Kaminari though- _watching out for you across the street like an absolute stalker,_ he'd declared. Before she knows it, a smirk is making its way up her mouth.

His eyebrows twitch threateningly. "The fuck you lookin' at me like that for?"

"Nothing." She'll press him another time. He'd just fed her, after all. "It's strange for me to admit this, but… this might be the first good thing to happen to me all week."

"Yeah?"

"It's true," she tells him honestly, tilting her head playfully at him. "I thought about quitting maybe ten times a day, every day, this past week."

"How 'bout now?"

"Hm… you cut it off to seven."

He scoffs. "I didn't cook all that fuckin' shrimp for a fuckin'seven outta ten on your misery scale, Dr. Ponytail. You're supposed to tell me that I brought it to negative a hundred and I blew your fuckin' mind and that I'm the best fuckin' thing that happened to you, period."

"Is that so, Nitro?" He's obnoxiously flirting with her and she should be irked, but she isn't. Not at all. Instead, she's smiling too much. She knows it, but she couldn't stop. "You're going to have to spend more time in the kitchen if you want to achieve that."

"Don't get used to it, Ponytail. You get a free pass today 'cause I felt like makin' yer ponytail twitch. That's all."

"... twitch…?!"

Somehow, she feels her ponytail twitch behind her in annoyance, like a sentient being. It has been doing that for a while now, hasn't it? She doesn't know how, but it makes Bakugou guffaw again.

"Yeah. Just like that. How the fuck do you do that?!" He gives her another devilish grin, for good measure. Momo wonders if her poor little heart would ever stop pounding wildly every time she sees that.

"I never asked you to feed me," she repeats lightly, through the wild throbbing of her pulse and the affronted twitch of her ponytail. "… but, I'm grateful. Honestly… thank you, Bakugou-san. I don' t know how you knew that I needed this, but you really cheered me up. I wonder what possessed you to take care of me so well?"

"A fuckin' ghost of a gerbil, probably. Stop talking about it already. It's not a big deal." He pointedly avoids her eyes, she notes, when exhales, stands up from his seat, and gestures with one strong shoulder for her to do the same. "Anyways, that half-and-half Dr BlackJack rip-off's probably shitting himself over there covering for your ass."

"Oh." She glances at her watch-has it already been an hour? "Oh my, of course, I have to go."

She starts to follow him out of the cafe, but stops in her steps. Bakugou raises an eyebrow at her when she turns on her heel and rushes to the counter, where an amused Jirou looks at her in curiosity.

"I'll have these to go," she says, gesturing to the pastries on the display.

"Um," the dark-haired barista says, an unsure look on her face. "Which one?"

"All of them. One of each will do."

She senses Bakugou hulk somewhere behind her. He probably has the same astonished look on Jirou's face.

"Oh… the almond croissants looks good though. I'll have two of those," she tells the stunned barista, fishing out her wallet from her doctor's coat.

Jirou nods numbly and calls out for Kaminari to help her package everything.

Bakugou's mouth is hanging open, an uncharacteristic quiet taking over his entire being. He stares at her incredulously and softly tells her, "What the fuck?"

She shrugs. "I figured it's about time I paid for something, Bakugou-san. Anyways, I owe Todoroki-san and Honenuki-san a croissant for covering for me."

"Uh-huh. And the rest of it?"

She shrugs. "I'm still hungry," she tells him coolly, earning her a mildly impressed raise of the eyebrows. She isn't that hungry, to be honest, but she can manage eating perhaps five of those and she'll be good to go. Her appetite hasn't been this stimulated in a while. "I'll give you a review of all the pastries I'll sample, if you want."

He laughs at her. "Don't bother. I _know_ you're going to tell me _orgasmic_ over and over until I'm sick of it."

"Bakugou-san! You rude-!"

By the time she's smacked him on the arm enough times until he stops guffawing, Jirou and Kaminari hand her the largest box they have, filled to the brim with pastries. She hands them 10,000 yen, doesn't even wait for the change, tells them goodbye and leaves the cafe, Bakugou trailing behind her.

"Yo," he calls out to her suddenly, grabbing the crook of her arm with a searingly hot, strong hand right before she crosses the street.

She stares at him curiously. He moves closer to her, and she smells that distinct sweet, heady scent off of him as nitroglycerin evaporates in the air. She can't stop the expectant smile on her face as she waits for him to speak.

It looks like he isn't sure of what to say, for once. His eyebrows do an odd, uncoordinated movement, as do the corners of his mouth, as his jaw juts out tensely in deep thought. But he manages to spit out, "You… shouldn't… have to wait for me to drag your fuckin' ass back here. _Capisce_?"

Momo knows the smile on her face is bordering on excessive. She bites her lower lip in an effort to keep it at bay. "Most cafe owners just say _come see us again,_ Bakugou-san."

He makes that _tch_ sound again. He lets go of her arm-instantly making her aware of the absence of warmth-and stuffs them in both pockets. "Whatever. I ain't like most cafe owners."

She giggles. "You really aren't."

She steps forward, boxes in hand, and looks over her shoulder. With a devilish smile of her own, for good measure. "And… I will. See you again, I mean."

She hopes her face isn't as pink and warm as it feels when she makes that bold declaration. Not looking back, she finally crosses the street, clutching the box and hiding her face behind it as much as safety allows.

When she reaches the lobby of the hospital, she allows herself to peek over her shoulder. Just in time, he sees his figure retreating into the cafe, gruff and silent as ever, as if nothing happened.

She makes her way up to the neurosurgeons' callroom again, setting down the comically oversized box of pastries in front of Honenuki, who is sleepily finishing his paperwork. "Yaoyorozu, are you having a party or something?" he asks, astonished.

"No… I just felt like buying."

Honenuki gives her his usual toothy smile. "I guess something good happened?" he asks, a little teasingly.

She hopes she isn't too dreamy when she responds, "I suppose so."

She hands him an almond croissant, and sets aside Todoroki's share. Later, they both tell her that the pastries are so good that they're practically _orgasmic_.

* * *

 **AN:** This chapter took me ridiculously long to write omg... and i am not happy with how it is but i try not to give in to my perfectionist side anymore. i just want to write a romcom come on don't overthink

this was supposed to be part of chapter one but it's so long so i decided to separate it. it's... 5k words wth.

Buuuut I wanted to spend many words about Momo's struggles. I imagine that she might have the same tendency to not believe in herself outside of academics, even if she didn't go to the pro-hero track~ and I imagine practicing neurosurgery in a population with lots of physical mutations and quirks must be exponentially harder than how we do it in real life hehe


	3. Dark Chocolate Truffle

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 3: Dark Chocolate Truffles

* * *

Momo makes it to Ward Five as planned, with a sharp gleam in her eye, a skip in her step, and a determined swing of her ponytail. Kendo Itsuka is already there with all the charts in front of her, ready to do rounds with her. She's in the middle of an animated discussion over the phone though, so she patiently waits for her to finish.

"Mmhm. Mmhm." She glosses over the charts in front of her as she intently listens to the other end of the conversation. "No… Tetsu, that's... Don't panic, okay? It's just potassium, you just have to-" She catches Momo's eye, gives her a lopsided grin. "No, Tetsu, the patient isn't going to die from that, okay? Listen, so Yaoyorozu's here, I have to discuss a ton of cases with her, so maybe ask Shiozaki for help if you're not sure? No, she isn't going to send you to hell. Not today. Hopefully."

Momo stifles a giggle when she hears Tetsutetsu's distressed voice clearly through Kendo's phone: _"Kendo you know she'll kill me for this! Please I'm stupid and you're smart and you're the nicest one I know help me help me help-"_

Kendo giggles. "Fine. I'll help you, and you'll buy me dinner, okay?" She bites her lower lip and has to pull the phone a couple of inches off her ear from Tetsutetsu's overexcited yelling. "Okay. I'll text you. Bye."

The redhead finally hangs up the call and gives Momo an apologetic grin. "Yeah, sorry about that Yaoyorozu… you know how Tetsu gets sometimes."

Momo nods in understanding. "You do know him best, Kendo-san." The shine of her teal eyes, how her finger twirled 'round her vermilion hair, and how she can't stop smiling doesn't escape her.

The other girl snorts and slaps her on the arm playfully. "Hey, what's with that look? Are you… teasing me?"

"Oh, not at all!"

"Yes you are! This is so out of character for you, Ms. Prim-and-Proper. Since when have you acted like a charm school delinquent, huh?"

"I only calmly regarded how… radiant you seemed speaking with Tetsutetsu-san, that's all!"

"Whatever, Yaoyorozu," the redhead counters playfully. "Is this a takes-one-to-know-one kind of thing? You're the one who's ridiculously perky these past couple of weeks, you know."

"... I don't know what you're talking about." Momo begins, putting her nose up in the air haughtily. Isn't it unfair how Kendo easily changes the subject of scrutiny from herself to Momo? They were talking about her obvious affection for Tetsutetsu, and now… "And we aren't talking about me, we're talking about-"

Kendo's gaze is a little too investigatory, and she finds herself avoiding her gaze altogether. "We can tell, you know. Smiling all the time? Literally bouncing when you're talking to anyone and everyone? Humming Mariah Carey's _Emotions_ , on loop?"

Momo sputters, "It's a good song!"

"Yeah. Honenuki tells me that he and Todoroki have that song stuck in their heads for an entire week now 'cause of you."

Oh. So that explains the pained look on Honenuki-san's face whenever Momo comes in. Has she really been humming that song all the time? But it's a good song, a classic. Anyone can fight her on that.

"Whatever it is… you got it bad, girl." Kendo ignores how Momo's ponytail starts twitching tensely as the accusation comes forth. "Even Best Jeanist asked me if I knew why you're acting strangely."

Momo freezes and starts to fret. She thinks she did a good job of separating her silly, dreamy adolescent feelings from her work facade, but apparently she hasn't, if their infamous training officer has noticed a change in her. "Dr. Hakamata noticed something? Oh, did he comment on how I lack confidence again? Or maybe he wants to give me more duties, because I'm not doing very well?"

The redhead gives her an odd look. "No, of course not Yaoyorozu! Actually, it's the opposite. He likes how you're suddenly so… bright and positive and decisive."

Momo can't keep her surprise hidden. She feels her ponytail twitch upward happily. Kendo notices and stifles a giggle.

"He actually asked me if anything good happened to you. Like, if you won the lottery or something. But I'm sure it isn't the lottery, since I'm sure you have like a pile of inherited gold doubloons hidden somewhere in your room-"

She most certainly does _not_ have gold doubloons in her room. She isn't a pirate or a dragon with a hoarding complex. But Momo _has_ invested in gold before. She chooses not to clarify that point for her.

"-whatever it is, he says you should keep it up. Aren't you glad, Yaoyorozu? Best Jeanist practically gave you his blessing to keep seeing this mystery person of yours~"

Momo can't keep her face from flushing when she sputters, "That's not-Dr. Hakamata doesn't know about-"

"About what? Or… whomst?" The neurologist gives her a little eyebrow-wiggle of her own. "You're thinking of a specific face in your head now, aren't you?"

"No-one! Really, Kendo-san!" She's relieved that Kendo doesn't have a mind-reading quirk, because the face of a certain blonde cafe owner that flashed out of nowhere in her traitorous mind would be misinterpreted as cold, hard evidence of her outrageous claims. "I think we should start discussing these cases, please? We have a long day ahead of us!"

"Mhm." Kendo shrugs and says nothing more about the subject. The mischievous grin on the other doctor's face doesn't go away, though, and Momo knows that she isn't off the hook. "So about Mr. S in room 504-A…"

Kendo starts to discuss the new referrals eloquently and seriously. With a laser-precision focus, Momo pushes all the silly love-struck soundtracks and explosives to the back of her mind.

* * *

Momo is correct. It ends up being a long day. And even though she doesn't have night duty that day, the evening rush is over by the time she finishes everything and steps out of the hospital. As is her habit for the past couple of weeks, she looks both ways and crosses the street and quietly peeps through the windows of the NTG Cafe.

The lights are dimmed. The little wooden signage that hangs at the glass door reads _Closed._ Momo sees Kaminari at the far end of the cafe, rearranging the last of the tables and chairs and then disappearing at the back.

She sighs. Of course she didn't make it. It's eleven in the evening on a busy weeknight, and people should be going home to rest by this hour. They all have a full day ahead of them tomorrow.

Well-it's not so bad. As a direct result of her being so 'bright and positive and decisive,' as Kendo-san eloquently put it, for the past few days she was able to finish work earlier and to make it minutes before the cafe closed. And because of that, she has been able to see Bakugou-san more frequently. So she's only a little down when she decides that it's all right that she isn't seeing him tonight, for once, and decides to go home to her apartment.

As she turns around to leave though, the door chime sounds behind her. "Hey. Ponytail," a familiar rumble calls out to her, sending a shiver down her spine.

She turns around, trademark ponytail swishing behind her. "I have a name, Bakugou-san."

Despite her stern response, she can't stop the smile breaking into her face.

Bakugou has that unbearable smirk on his pretty mouth when he looks at her up and down, as he usually does when they meet. He doesn't have his apron on anymore, and Momo is treated to the sight of him, lean and mean in a tight-enough black collared shirt and jeans. His arms are crossed, showing off those strong arms of his, the sleeves of his shirt struggling to contain them, and she's so sure that if she leapt into him right now he'd be able to…

Momo internally reprimands herself for still not being used to this sight after 2 weeks of exposure

"Whatever. You comin' in?" His gruff voice interrupts her unladylike ogling. She snaps up to attention to look at him curiously.

"But it's past closing time already…"

The blonde shrugs. "Never stopped you and your bottomless-pit-of-a-stomach before, Brainy."

By this time she's almost completely immune to his natural predilection for profanities, even those targeted towards her. She hopes she isn't bouncing her way inside when she obliges.

Bakugou leads the way to their usual spot near the counter, orders her to sit down, and disappears out back. Kaminari, already clad in his casual clothes, ambles his way up to her with his backpack, evidently ready to go home. He greets her with a wiggle of two short blonde brows. "Hey, doc~ You're here a little later than usual. How's the hospital?"

"Oh, busy. But nothing that I can't handle. Thank you for asking, Kaminari-san!"

"Aren't you bright and bouncy, Yaomomo! Man, you have no idea how starved I am for a pretty face-it's just me and Baku-boss the entire day, and I'm just about to lose hope in the human race…"

She giggles. It's always hard to keep one's composure around the jocular Kaminari-san, but she tries her best. "Oh, I can only imagine. And the cafe has been busy lately, right? But you seem to be doing a good job."

"Thanks! You're the only one who thinks that!" He makes a face, hears Bakugou coming out from the back again, and exaggerates the said face. "Did you hear what Dr. Yaomomo said, Baku-boss? She said I was doing a good job! You should give me a raise-"

"Didn't hear a fuckin' thing," he grumbles as he places the tray on their table. "But, I should give you a fuckin' deduction for what you did to the fuckin' toilet, Pika-shit. Thanks for remindin' me."

" _Whey._ This is abuse," he sighs dramatically amidst Momo's giggles. And then, a look of concern on his face. "But hey, you're going home soon, right, Baku-boss? I mean… you know we can't keep Dr. Yaomomo for too long here…"

The odd, careful tone in his voice doesn't go past Momo unnoticed. Bakugou doesn't look up to meet his gaze. "Yeah it's fine."

"You sure?" Strangely insistent and gentle to the point of being _parental_ , Kaminari leers comically close to his boss's face and narrows his empty eyes. "We got a full day tomorrow, boss, and it's way past your bedtime-"

"Fuckin'-what are you, my mom?! I said it's fine!" He shoves the shorter blonde's face away with one strong hand, making the latter yelp and discharge a few shocks from his head. "Now get the fuck outta here. I'll take care of the rest."

"Okay~ You two take care, I guess." The concern in his face is completely gone, making Momo wonder if she was just imagining things. Kaminari salutes her with his usual silly grin and double thumbs-up. "Y'all have fun now! Good night!"

"Good night, Kaminari-san," says Momo, with a gentle wave of the hand. When he disappears, she shifts her attention to Bakugou, who has already grumpily fallen into his seat across from her. "Is… this really okay, Bakugou-san? He seems worried for you…"

"Tch," he begins, as grumpy as is the norm. "Don't mind that dopey fucker, a'ight? I told you it's fine."

She stares at him quietly. There are circles dimming the undersides of his eyes, and a very subtle droop in his shoulders as he sets the plates in front of her. But his eyes are fully awake and alert, and when he reaches over to grab her hand and push the cutleries in her palm, as always, his hands are as strong and fiery hot as they've ever been.

"W… well… if you say so," she relents. Maybe she's looking too much into it. It is late, after all. Anyone would look tired by this time. She turns her attention to the food in front of her instead, and feels herself brightening up considerably. "Oh, Bakugou-san, it's _beautiful_ …"

Discs of vibrant, rainbow pasta are layered up with filling. From the light, stimulating fragrance emanating from it, Momo can only guess there's fish, shellfish mousse, and vegetables blended and cooked perfectly within. The piece is plated artfully and tastefully on a wide plate. She feels all her senses activate her hunger centers, but also feels terrible at the prospect of cutting the dish open and ruining the aesthetic.

But the feeling doesn't last long when she takes the first bite of the meal. "Oh my… Bakugou-san…!"

The cafe owner snorts at her first reaction, which is to moan a little too suggestively and stomp her feet in an undignified manner. "You like that, Ponytail?" he says teasingly.

She can't believe how good it tastes. Before she can stop herself and regulate her excitement, the praises escapes her mouth. "All the layers are _exquisite!_ The _cacciucco,_ the shellfish mousse, and the broccoli work so well together! And unexpectedly, the pasta balances the flavours neatly! Everything is just elegantly done!"

There's no way that he didn't spend hours making the dish. Either that, or he's an actual demon in the kitchen. It won't take a lot to convince Momo of that anymore. "You know it," Bakugou says easily, with a self-satisfied smirk. "When have I ever given you anything that ain't cooked to fuckin' perfection, Ponytail?"

Never is the only answer to that question. But Momo doesn't tell him that, because she's perpetually worried about how big his ego is getting and how unhelpful she is in that regard.

Which reminds her… She puts down her fork, making Bakugou raise an eyebrow that she even _dared_ to stop in the middle-really, does this man think of her as nothing but as eating machine?-and delicately pats her mouth with a napkin. "It's delicious, as always, Bakugou-san," she begins, when he looks like he's about to sit up and loudly demand an explanation from her. "But I'd like to pace myself, for one. Also, I want to show you how I appreciate the meals and company you've given me so far…"

The mild confusion in Bakugou doesn't go away, and grows and grows when Momo shifts in her seat to rifle through her handbag and to push a slim box into the blonde's hands.

"The fuck is this, Ponytail?"

His odd reaction catches her off-guard. "It's a gift, Bakugou-san."

"It ain't my fuckin' birthday or anything like that, Brainy."

"I know it isn't," Momo tells him humorously. Although, come to think of it, she doesn't know _when_ his birthday is. She takes a mental note to somehow wheedle out that information from him later. "It's simply something to show my appreciation for you. You've made me these marvelous things, and I don't think I've done enough to do anything for you in return…"

His face remains skeptical as he opens the package. "Memento Truffles, huh?" he says flatly. The look in his eyes is unreadable. Momo doesn't want to think that he's unimpressed or insulted, but the way his eyebrow raises, she isn't sure what to think.

"Do… you not like them?" she asks carefully. She hopes her ponytail isn't deflating too much. She's glad that she didn't tell him about how she has had to beg her mother to contact one of her dearest friends in Belgium to purchase and have them delivered via priority mail within the past week.

Unaware of her inner turmoil, Bakugou pops one casually in his mouth. "Hm. They're not bad, I guess," he says thoughtfully mid-chew.

"Not bad…?" Momo begins, affronted beyond reason. "Jacques Memoir, one of the top ten chocolatiers in the world, handcrafted these! When you bite into them, you ought to feel as if you're simultaneously remembering all the nice chocolates you've ever eaten! Dark chocolate that is neither too sweet nor too bitter, the insides of which are soft and whipped, but do not immediately melt… toppings of Hungarian paprika, violets, wild flennel that give an unexpected punch of flavor… the pleasing, classic aesthetic that ties them altogether… is merely _not bad_ for you, Bakugou-san?"

He listens to her affronted monologue with a self-satisfied smirk. "Yeah. I could do it better."

The girl sputters indignantly. Bakugou almost chokes laughing at her mid-swallow. "Y-you _think_ you can do better than one of the top ten chocolatiers in the world?!"

"Nah. I _know_ so." The self-satisfied smirk on his face tells Momo that he isn't even _joking_ and it just blows her mind how highly he thinks of himself. "What, you think I'm talkin' shit?"

She scoffs. "You're simply unbelievable, Bakugou-san."

"Don't I know it." She only rolls her eyes at that, and he laughs again. Ugh, she should really hate it, but she can't stop her stupid mouth from smiling when she hears it. "Anyways, this is too much for me, Ponytail. Come on. Eat."

"Hm? Oh, but these are for you, and you only... I have to repay you somehow, for-"

He actually _growls_ and widens his eyes like a wild animal at that remark. "I ain't fuckin' cookin' you all these great meals so you could pay me for it. What do you think of me, haa? If I wanted to, I'd be chargin' you a fortune from day one."

Momo pauses and feels her heart squeeze. Did she just… insult him somehow? Was her gift too much, too soon? "That's… not my intention at all," she says quietly. "I'm sorry if the gift is too much, Bakugou-san. I'll take note next time."

He snorts and puts the truffles down between them. A silence envelops them, with Momo half-heartedly poking through the rest of the dish, and Bakugou staring right at her with searching ruby eyes.

"If you want to give me a gift that bad, Ponytail-"

She snaps her head a little too quickly to look at him.

A mischievous glint is in his eyes. They look challenging, somehow. "Make me something."

She blinks. "Um… I can't cook, Bakugou-san…"

He sneers at her. "You know, somehow I guessed that." Momo pouts at him, but cannot contest the point any further. "But that's not what I fucking meant."

She tilts her head curiously at him. "So… make something? Oh, like a collage or a papier-mache? Oh, I'd love to, I have so many ideas-"

"No! You fuckin' nerd!" Momo hates how easy it is to make him laugh at her expense. "I meant, make me something with your fuckin' quirk! Geez, and I thought you were supposed to be a genius…"

"Oh," she says with a little _humph._ Really, he should have started with that. She wouldn't call herself a genius, but she isn't usually this… daft. "Well, I suppose I can make you something… what would you like?"

"Fuckin' anything. Sky's the limit. Come on."

"That's the point, Bakugou-san. If you won't be specific, it'll be hard for me to think up of something you would like…"

"Fine," he says gruffly. "Make me… something that'll remind me of you when I look at it."

How… how could you say that so nonchalantly, Bakugou-san? With that rumble in your voice, that roguish glint in your eyes, that devil-may-care smile? Momo feels herself blushing from her neck to her scalp, and dares not open her mouth lest another undignified sound escapes from it.

Also, there's nothing specific about his request! What is she supposed to make? She straightens her mind, forms an image in her head, breaks down the components of the object and wills it to form over her chest.

The object materializes in between her breasts; for modesty's sake she turns around, and to her relief she senses the explosive barista turning away of his own accord. When it's fully formed, she takes it and places it gingerly on the desk.

Bakugou shifts his gaze to the object. A smile is on his face as he slurs out, "Now that's more like it, Ponytail."

Matryoshka dolls are one of the first things she's learned to make as a child, and one of her favourite things to create. She remembers telling Bakugou about it, when they talked about quirks during one of their dinners in the past week. "This isn't like one of the dolls I'm used to making though," she explains as she watches him open the dolls with interest, one by one. "Instead of the usual _babushka_ designs that I tend to make, the dolls are dressed in explosive-themed dresses. Because you're the human incarnate of a bomb."

"I can see that," he says, amused. The grenades look real in his hands, oddly, like they would explode into blossoms of light in his explosive grasp. "Looks like you were thinkin' of me when you made it, huh Ponytail?"

She tries her best to say, "Yes," without blushing further.

"Well… they're the best grenade dolls made of fat I've ever seen, Dr. Ponytail. Good job."

She stares him down in annoyance and playfully moves to snatch the dolls away from his grasp. With another obnoxious laugh, he keeps it away from her reach, stands up, and walks to the counter.

"There. Now everyone who walks in the cafe can stare at your fat and see how nice it fuckin' looks," he tells her with a victory smirk. "This belongs here now. No takebacks."

Speechless, Momo can only nod weakly at him.

The night ends as it usually does, with Momo crossing the street to her home and Bakugou watching her until she reaches the lobby. She looks back at him and gives him a small wave of the hand.

Tonight is a little different, though, because for once, he waves back-no hesitations, no pretenses. He walks back to the cafe, lights shutting behind him, and Momo is absolutely stunned.

She can't stop the smile forming on her lips, or stop the impulse to hug herself and roll around her bed like a teenaged girl when she makes it up to her condo unit.

* * *

Perhaps it was the next day during a short lull in her busy workday when Momo receives a phone call from an old friend.

 _"Hey, Dr. Momo! So you're alive after all!"_

Momo smiles down at the phone. "Satou-san! Oh, it has been a while, hasn't it?"

 _"It is. You haven't been visiting us for sometime now. I feel like you've been having an affair with a different cafe!_ " Chef Satou Rikido uses his best hurt voice, but it's still playful and makes Momo giggle.

"Stop, please," Momo says lightly. She keeps her mouth decidedly shut about his accusation of having an affair with a different cafe. "But you are right, Satou-san. I haven't been visiting for some time now… I really should, shouldn't I?"

Satou hums from the other end. _"Well, I sure hope you do, doc. I actually called to ask if you were going to make it on Friday."_

Momo blinks once, and then rapidly when realization dawns on her. "Oh my… Friday is that night already?"

The chef makes an affirmative noise. _"Yep! Satou's Coffees and Cakes Farewell Party! All of our patrons and favorite customers are welcome! And you really are one of our favourites-you know, Hagakure's sad that you haven't been going, and she's going to throw a tantrum if you don't show up on Friday…"_

"Oh! Of course I'll be there, Satou-san!" She stares at the calendar on the office wall-good, she doesn't have to stay the night then. "You can count on me! Please, tell Tooru-san and Koda-san to save some of the chiffon cake for me!"

 _"That's great! I'm glad, Dr. Momo. We gotta see you before we leave for Paris, eh?"_

"... We?" asks Momo curiously. As far as she knows, Satou is going to Paris by himself for further training as a patissier.

 _"That's about it! I'll see you Friday, then!_ "

Not knowing the meaning of the cryptic message, Momo shrugs and makes it through the work day, until the rest of the week passes by in its usual blur and it's already Friday. She finished a little later than she'd like, but she needs to show up to Satou's.

With a bottle of rose champagne, she enters the familiar, homey interiors of Satou's Coffees and Cakes.

The bell hanging over the door announces her arrival. She sees the party already beginning at one of the reserved areas of the restaurant. About twenty people are already there, passing bottles and hors d'oeuvres around.

She makes her way inside-at the center of the room, a commotion is already going on, and seeing the character involved, she quickly understands why.

"Satou Rikido! The star patissier of the Musutafu Culinary Academy's deplorable class A!" Monoma Neito, of Monoma's Boulangerie et Patisserie, is dramatically wailing as he always does. He's got a half-filled glass of wine in one hand, and a half-empty bottle of fine Cabernet Sauvignon in the other. His face is already flushed pink, likely from the alcohol. "Again! I prove my superiority to you! All that you're going to learn in Paris, I already know like the back of my hand!"

A cacophony of drunken hoots and boos and sneers emanate from the crowd. Satou, however, only looks mildly amused at his declaration. "I know, Monoma. No-one's as good as you when it comes to French cuisine."

More boos. Momo recognizes Sero Hanta's voice from the crowd, "No way! Team Satou all the way, baby! Monoma, your orange chiffon cake _sucks!_ "

"Silence, you plebe!" Monoma makes a grandiose gesture-some of his wine spills in the process-and again points one finger at Satou. "Listen here, Satou! Our rivalry is only put on hold! Once you train abroad and come back, you'll have no further excuses! I'll be able to prove once and for all that Monoma's makes better pastries! So you better come back, and-"

His tirade is cut short when Satou laughs and takes him in a surprise bear hug that takes all the air out of him. "Yeah, yeah. I'll miss you too, buddy! It'll be lonely baking without you yelling across the street!"

The crowd goes _aaaaw!_ , and the suddenly speechless and blushing Monoma can only freeze and bristle like a confused cat before awkwardly returning the hug.

Momo covers her mouth at how cute the scene is. While it was stressful to watch the first time she saw it, she's going to miss the noisy rivalry between Monoma and Satou. Her visits at Monoma's will surely be quieter for the next few years…

A glass of sparkling wine is under her nose in the next moment. Blinking, she turns to see a floating pink-and-purple dress next to her, accompanied by a cute voice. "Dr. Yaomomo! You finally made it!"

"Hagakure-san!" They hug each other warmly. Momo takes the glass from her. "I apologize for being late! It got really busy at work."

"We guessed as much! But I'm happy that one of the world's best neurosurgeons made it to our little party!"

"No, not at all," Momo begins weakly, but trails off when Satou spots them and comes up to them. "Oh, Satou-san, congratulations!"

"Thanks! Wow, you really made it, Dr. Momo!" He gives her a bear hug, which also knocks the wind out of her, and takes the bottle of champagne from her. "This sure is fancy, doc. This for us?"

"Of course! Apart from saying goodbye, we have plenty to celebrate… after all, you're going to work with one of the top chefs of Paris! It's a big deal!"

Satou laughs heartily. "I can think of other important things that deserves a fancy drink such as this."

Momo blinks curiously at him and looks at Hagakure, who also appears confused, judging by how her sleeves are shrugging. But before she can ask what he means, Satou is already calling everyone's attention by tapping his wine glass with one strong finger. "Everyone! May I have your attention please!"

The people in the room simultaneously turn quiet and turn to stare at them. As they give their attention to Satou, Momo takes the opportunity to scan the faces in the crowd. Sero Hanta, one of the nurses from Hosu Gen's pediatrics ward, is standing next to Aoyama Yuuga from ICU. Some of Monoma's staff, namely assistant pastry chefs Kinoko Komori and Tsuburaba Kosei, are both trying to steady their obviously inebriated boss. Their occasional part-timer, Rin Hiryuu is also there, quietly standing next to a frowning man with a camera. She's able to recognize Tsunotori Pony, the prominent businesswoman from Texas who invested in both Satou's and Monoma's, looking on with mild interest.

Both Kirishimas are also there. She sees Mina pausing mid-chortle to listen to the announcement. And under Kirishima Eijirou's arm is an obviously disgruntled and partially uncomfortable…

"... Bakugou-san?" she whispers out loud.

The explosive man is at the other end of the room, surely out of earshot, but looks up at her bewildered whisper. When red eyes meet black ones, his mood visibly shifts. That trademark devilish grin of his makes it to his mouth and catches her off guard.

Momo tries not to look to happy at this unexpected meeting, and busies herself by drinking her wine a little too quickly.

When the room has completely quieted down, Satou begins to speak. "First of all, thank you for coming to my humble little gathering… tonight, as you know, is the last time that I'll have all of you here to eat my food as customers and friends!"

Momo hears the audience make a variety of sad sounds, especially Hagakure beside her, who starts sniffling. But she can't concentrate, not when Bakugou is staring at her like that…

"... well, at least the last time until I get back in three or so years," Satou adds with a laugh. "I'd like to thank you all for coming to celebrate with me. It truly has been a pleasure serving you all for the past five years-"

… and her, staring back at Bakugou like that. Perhaps. It's his fault. Momo hasn't ever seen him wear anything other than his work clothes. And to suddenly appear before her without warning, wearing a black button-down shirt, with the top two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up, showing off his nice arm-and those dark jeans, different from the looser, mildly distressed ones he wears to work-

"-and I'll never forget all of your support and… sheesh, I'm not really good at these speeches." Satou cuts his speech short, to a comical effect, and raises his glass amidst chortles from the audience. "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Momo almost misses the cue, and attempts to take a sip from her glass, only to find herself drinking empty air.

Bakugou notices. He looks like he's about to burst from laughter. She gives him a stern look, but again tries her best not to smile too much.

Ah, but it's a little hard. She might have drunk her wine a little too quickly after all. And on an empty stomach too. She's light-headed and bubbly and teetering on the edge of embarrassing. She focuses away from his piercing gaze and back to the man of the hour.

"But that's not all I want to celebrate." Satou begins again. "I also want to celebrate my co-workers for being with me for the past five years-Hagakure-san! Koda-kun! Come up here, won't ya?"

Hagakure stammers next to Momo. She's able to catch the server's meek _'what's going on?'_ before the smaller woman bounces her way next to Satou. Koda, the quieter server, doesn't look as confused when he walks up to the chef, but looks quite nervous all the same.

"So as many of you know, Koda-kun won't be in the restaurant business for very long," Satou says, patting the large man on the back. "He's finally about to finish his Veterinary Medicine degree, like he's always wanted to! Everyone, say Congratulations, Dr. Koda!"

"Congratulations, Dr. Koda!" everyone chants, to which the anxious animal doctor signs his thanks frantically.

"Now… as for Hagakure Tooru-san." Satou turns to her with a playful smile. "You haven't told any of us your plans after Satou's closes down tomorrow, right?"

Hagakure falters. If Momo could see her face, she's sure that she has a sad smile on her face then. "Th… that's because I don't have any plans at all, Satou-san-I mean, this is my first and only job, and I really like it very much, and-"

There's a break in her voice, and Momo is sure that she's trying her hardest not to cry. The audience makes a simultaneous sad _aaaaw_. Satou pats her on the back with a large hand and looks at her warmly. "Then… if it's okay with you, Hagakure… I have a proposal for you."

It happens very quickly-one moment she's looking up at him, confused and speechless, and in the next moment she's looking slightly downward when he falls on one knee in front of her, and everyone else.

"Uwa~~?!" She cries comically, as suddenly Koda brings a violin out of nowhere, playing a touching rendition of _Love Me Like You Do._ Someone flips a switch somewhere, and rose petals suddenly float from the ceiling, all around the invisible girl who's mesmerized beyond words.

"Hagakure Tooru," Satou attempts, as he holds up a little velvet box in his large hands, presenting it in front of the girl and her incomprehensible sobbing, "We've known each other for the past five years… you changed my life for the better… so if you would do me the honor of going to Paris with me, as man and-"

She screeches excitedly and practically throws herself at Satou. "Yes! I will, Satou-san! I will! Yes!"

"Let him ask the frickin' question, Hagakure!" Someone yells from the audience, amidst all the clapping and cheering.

"Shut up! I'm getting married! And going to PARIS!" Hagakure retorts loudly, much to everyone's laughter. She's literally beaming, she's so happy she's covering the entire room in flashes of light, and the party has to continue cheering and drinking their wines with their eyes closed.

Momo feels tears stinging her eyes-she isn't sure if it's her overwhelming happiness for the happy couple, or if it's all the light getting into her eyes. It doesn't last very long, but the flashes are enough to make her dizzy. As her eyes are closed, she feels a familiar warm hand enclose around hers, and in the next moment she's being dragged to somewhere else.

She opens her eyes when cold air hits the bare skin of her shoulders. The first thing she sees is the night sky and the bright full moon calmly glowing within the darkness. The stars that are visible against the city lights are few and far in between, but still they glow brightly and beautifully, unaware of the mess of life below them.

"Fuckin' finally." The rumble creeps up to her ear and crawls right into her thumping chest. "I got you where I want you."

She smiles as quietly as her heart will allow her. "Good evening to you too, Bakugou-san."

His blonde hair glows ethereally under the scant light of the sky. He's close to her, close enough that she sees the shadow of his lashes on his cheeks. "Yeah. Good evening or whatever, Dr. Ponytail."

"I didn't know you were invited as well." She takes two careful steps backward, increasing the distance between them. She doesn't know why she wants to, why it suddenly feels so dangerous to have Bakugou close to her. "And I didn't know that you were close to Kirishima-san, as well-"

"Yeah. Diabetes invited a lot of other cafe owners. You've seen that other blonde psycho," he says, pointing his thumb at the cacophony inside. "And Shitty-Hair's a guy from my high school. Still fuckin' clingy after all these years…"

No remorse at all for the terrible nicknames he's given everyone. Momo gives him another stern look, and he leers right back at her. "Really, Bakugou-san. Is it so difficult for you to call people by their given names? You know, come to think of it… I've never heard you call me by my actual name since we met!"

"So?"

"So… do you just have terrible manners, or a terrible memory for names?"

"Definitely the first one," Bakugou replies brashly. "My memory's awesome, thank you very much."

Momo humphs. "I highly doubt that. I'm willing to bet that you call people by those terrible nicknames based on appearances because remembering things is something you're bad at. And you don't want to admit it, because you hate being bad at something. I'm willing to wager that you can't even remember what you had for breakfast."

"French toast and OJ," he answers easily. And then, with that dangerous grin on his face, continues. "Try again… Yaoyorozu Momo."

 _Oh… no._

She feels herself freeze under his searing hot gaze. Her mouth moves, but all she's able to manage is a meek bite of the lower lip.

"What? Why you lookin' at me like that… Momo?"

"I beg your pardon?"

Ridiculous. Simply ridiculous. Just the mention of her own name in his voice, and already it does things to her insides that are hard to describe. She fights to keep her gaze steady, her mouth in a straight, unaffected line. She knows it isn't working, because he's smiling and sauntering closer and closer, and she isn't moving away.

 _Please, Momo, get a hold of yourself-_

"You heard me." She's flustered, and he knows she is, and he isn't stopping. "You're starin' at me like…"

That smile, that awful, awful, smile. Momo struggles for a witty remark. "Like what, Bakugou-san?" is all she's able to manage, in a voice that's too breathy for her own.

"Katsuki."

She blinks.

"If you're gonna whine about using names, I'm gonna call you Momo from now on," he tells her- _tells_ her, not asks, as a man like him is wont to do. "But you gotta call me Katsuki in return. Aight?"

"All right," she says. She straightens herself, looks at him right in the eye. "Katsuki-san."

He clicks his tongue. "Fuck no, what am I, your fuckin' supervisor? Try again."

She giggles. "I apologize. Then… Katsuki."

He smiles. "That's more like it."

He's standing close to her still-one more step forward, and he'd have her cornered against one of the tables out in the garden. He'd be so close, if he pushed her just a little bit, she'd fall over it. And he'd have to catch her in those arms, he'd have to lift her up and over the table, wedge himself between her legs, and then he'd be close enough to crush his lips against hers, and-

And whatever it is, Momo would let him, would let him get his hands all over her hair, her bare skin, her face-

 _No, Momo, have mercy on yourself oh my god!_ She takes another step around the table, distancing herself away from the man and his heady scent. _Too much, Momo, too much. Calm down._

 _Surely he isn't like that…_ She's sure he's different, this Bakugou Katsuki. They're merely friends, one of them a little more inebriated than the other, perhaps. Their odd relationship is the reverse of many poor experiences with men she's had in the past, where she's treated as nothing more as an object of their desire.

And now here she is, thirsting for him in her mind, rather shamelessly and one-sidedly at that. She reprimands herself for her debauched thoughts, again, and clears her throat for some clarity.

A quiet falls over them in the next moment. There's a bottle of wine on the garden table next to them, with two glasses. A nice, benign set-up, between friends who like to talk and eat and drink together. She gestures for them to sit down, and he obliges.

"I suppose since there's wine, it's only logical for us to drink it," she tells him as she moves to pour into two glasses. Before she is able to fill his, he stops her with one hand.

"I don't drink. Don't fuckin' force me to," he says sharply.

"Oh… I'm sorry, I didn't realize." So it really is just her with alcohol to blame for any form of candour. She puts the wine aside and leaves him with an empty glass.

"But if you want to drink, I ain't stoppin' ya from getting shitfaced," he continues. He cradles his head against one hand and stares at her with interest. "Don't make me carry you home though. I ain't a princess carriage or anything."

She sticks her nose up in the air. "I know my limits."

"If you say so… Momo."

* * *

 **AN:** So I went through an intense fierce internal debate against myself to cut this shorter, or to continue on to the next scenes that also occur in the party. Since it's already 6.8 k words I decided to cut it where it ends.

Ahhhh it's difficult for me to pace this story as I originally intended. This definitely won't end at 7 chapters T_T

Also, there's lots of characters here, yes? Yes im insane i want to write for all of them bwahahaha... well, if I'm insane enough IDK. I'm definitely working on Monoma's story, at least, but let me finish the two stories I'm simultaneously and impulsively writing like a crazy person first

Anyways, I hope this chapter isn't too hard to read! Comments are welcome, whether it's to tell me to continue, to correct my grammar (pls help me, second language issues ya know), or to yell at me at how OOC the characters are or whatever lol just let me know what's on your mind~


	4. Cabernet Sauvignon

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 4: Cabernet Sauvignon

 _AN: Note the change in rating please. Mature stuff up ahead T_T_

* * *

"Creati, the Everything Hero," the blonde repeats with an inelegant snort.

Momo giggles and takes another sip of the Cabernet Sauvignon in her glass. Her third or her fourth, probably. She isn't too sure of it, not at this hour. All she's sure of is that the air is nice and cool around them, that Mssrs. Monoma and Aoyama are singing a fluent, yet off-key version _La Vie En Rose_ inside the cafe, and that she has Bakugou Katsuki's company, all to herself, for the past hour or so, and she's enjoying him. Extremely.

"You think it's too kitschy?"

Katsuki shakes his head slightly. He's cradling his head in one hand as he always does, piercing eyes on her and nothing else. "Nah. Suits you. I ain't sure about that skimpy shit you were planning to traipse around in, though."

"You know the nature of my quirk! I need as much skin exposure as I could," she argues. "Although, that's one of the main concerns of my mother, when I was considering which career track to take…"

"Yeah. Pro Hero, Professional Pianist, Ballerina, Materials Engineer." Katsuki chortles again. "Woulda been interesting if you decided to do 'em all. You'd be the literal Everything Hero. Fighting a villain at 1 then giving a concerto at 3 in your little red bathing suit."

The smile he gives her reminds her of how lightheaded she is. Oh. The wine is very, very good. She slaps him playfully on the arm, but it does nothing to stop his gleeful laughter.

"You know that's impossible," she says with a flush of her cheeks. "But that's the story of how I ended up in Shiketsu High's general studies." It's her turn to stare him down with her hand under her chin, as she asks slyly, "So what's your middle school pro-hero fantasy, Katsuki?"

He hums with a sly smile of his own. "Who says I got one, huh?"

She scoffs. "You just told me _everyone_ fantasizes about being a pro during middle school!"

"What if I'm not like the rest of the extras?"

She puffs her chest in annoyance. "Is this your attempt at a dark and mysterious persona, Katsuki? Because you're just being unfair. You rarely tell me anything about yourself-all I know is that you own a cafe, you went to UA with Kirishima-san, you like explosives, and you have the smarts of an encyclopedia and the vocabulary of a pirate, and-"

He gives her a wink. "Maybe that's all ya need to know about me."

She pouts. "No. Come on. Pro-hero fantasy stories. Now."

Her glass is jarringly empty suddenly. She reaches for the bottle, but Katsuki stops her by holding her hand.

Fingers entwine, trapping her. His hands are large, and rough, and _so,_ _so warm._ She holds her breath as his callused fingertips rub against the back of her hand.

"That's enough, Momo." The bottle is placed just out of her reach. "I change my mind about letting you get shit-faced."

She pouts. "It's _very good_ wine, Katsuki. You wouldn't know because you don't drink, but-"

When she tries to let his hand go to reach for the bottle, he stops her again. This time, both hands capture hers and pin them down on the table. She realizes, with minimal alarm, that the lightheadedness has extended to her alcohol-numbed fingers. Try as she might to struggle against his searing iron grip, there's no escape. Eventually she gives up and collapses in a fit of giggles over the table.

Another smile, and she feels a little weaker. "Drink your fucking water, _doc._ Seriously, you doctors are shit at taking care of your damn selves…"

"Fine," she says, and obediently takes a drink from Katsuki's glass of water. She drains about half a glass in one go, and unsteadily places it on the surface. She gives him a proud little look when she doesn't spill a drop. He laughs.

"Hey, Baku-bro! Dr. Momo! There you are!"

Kirishima and Satou come out of the party. As the door closes behind them, Momo catches a glimpse of Mina leading everyone in an impromptu Zumba routine. The redhead gives them both a knowing grin as he ambles behind a suddenly irritated Katsuki. "You two look like you're enjoying each other's company, eh?"

"The fuck is it, Shitty Hair?" Katsuki grits, as Kirishima's arm goes around him quite naturally, almost like it's muscle memory at this point. Momo is relieved to see that Katsuki just takes it, despite his abrasive reaction to it.

"Nothing! I'm not implying anything! Just stating the obvious!"

"Go state the obvious somewhere else, Hedgehog-head! Preferably the bathroom, so you could start chipping that hair gel off your head."

Momo giggles a little too much at that, making Satou look to her with concern.

"You okay there, Dr. Momo?" the chef says carefully. He has a bottle of water in one hand, and he refills the water-glass in front of her. "You seem kinda… more giggly than usual."

She giggles again. "I… _may_ be a little inebriated," she admits, holding her face with two hands. The numbness isn't getting worse, but she feels how warm her cheeks are, and guesses that she's likely a little redder than usual.

 _Tch,_ goes Katsuki's mouth, as it always does. "She finished off this bottle of Cabernet by herself, Diabetes. And she woulda downed another bottle if I didn't stop her, so… Yeah, she's fuckin' more than just a _little inebriated._ "

"Katsuki!"

"What, Momo? Mad that I snitched, and Diabetes knows how shit-faced you really are?"

Satou and Kirishima stare at each other questioningly. A second later, they're grinning at each other, and it is only then that Momo realizes that they heard them call each other by their first names.

"Hm, Katsuki, eh~?" Kirishima says teasingly, earning him a hard shove at the face. "Oh my gosh, you two are _so cute,_ why didn't you tell me? Ain't I your best friend? And can I just say, congratulations? Dr. Momo, I ain't sayin' your taste in men is somethin' else, but I can vouch for this guy, he'll take care of you so good you won't even know-"

"Shut up!" Katsuki grits out, and the face-shoving progresses into a headlock. Momo is alarmed, but Satou regards this as if it's an entirely normal thing to happen, and does nothing to stop it.

"W-well, whatever it is, you two," the chef says, clearing his throat. He looks at Momo with concern and says, "I don't mean to be rude, but I think it's time to call it a night, Doc? You got work tomorrow, right?"

How late is it, anyway? She fishes out her phone and gasps. "Oh my, it's two in the morning! You're right, Satou-san! I must be getting home…"

She stands up straight and takes a step. She thinks it isn't too unsteady. But she takes another and her vision wobbles, and in the next instant she's flanked at both sides by Katsuki and Satou, and Kirishima is in front of her with his hands out.

"Whoa, careful there," Satou says with a nervous laugh. "You really need to get home. I should get you a cab-"

"No," Katsuki says. Momo feels a strong hand on her arm, making all the blood rush to her face. "I know where she lives. I'll take her home."

Satou and Kirishima look at each other again worriedly. "You sure, Baku-bro?" asks the red-head. "Mina and I have a car, we can drive you guys home…"

"Nah. The walk will sober her up," Katsuki says, pulling on her arm and forcing her into another step. "You can manage it, right Momo?"

She doesn't stumble, thankfully, and she's able to resume walking in her normal charm-school trained gait and posture without any further trouble. "Yes, I'm sure."

Kirishima doesn't look very sure when he says, "I guess, but… you gonna be okay, Bakugou? It's… late and all."

Where has Momo heard this type of careful, concerned tone before? Next to her, Katsuki bristles slightly, but only grits out, "Yeah, it's fine. I can take care of Ponytail."

"Yeah, but you-"

The explosive blonde makes a sound of exasperation. "Fuckin'-if it gets your fuckin' panties in a twist, _shitty_ _mom,_ I'll text ya when I get this brainiac home. Heck, I'll even send a video of me throwing her through her front door, if that's what gets yer shitty hair-for-brains to stop worrying about me-"

Oh Momo you did _not_ just feel weak in the knees thinking about Katsuki throwing you through your front door with those strong arms of his and slamming you against the wall in the hallway-

"Baku-bro, I'm just lookin' out for ya, all right? I mean, I know that-"

But seriously, this argument is getting strange. The red-head has a true look of concern on his face, strangely prophetic in a way, as if he expects the blonde to keel over in the next moment. Or turn into a werewolf. Kirishima softly holds on to Katsuki, as if he's holding something fragile. Before he could finish his sentence, Katsuki rolls his shoulder in annoyance, shaking it off.

"-fucking hell, everyone's such a fucking worrywart it's fucking _annoying-_ "

"All right you two. We get it, your bromance transcends other dimensions and all, but it's getting really late and your argument ain't makin' it any less late." Satou towers over them and pulls them apart, slapping Katsuki at the back decidedly as he does so. "Anyway, you guys live ridiculously close by, and this is a safe area, so it should be okay. Bakugou, take the doc home and send us a message once you're home, okay?"

Katsuki grumbles in affirmation. He pulls on the stunned Momo's arm in an oddly careful way, and she holds onto his as she steps in time with him.

Kirishima is looking at them, still plainly worried. Momo turns to him and says, "We'll be okay, Kirishima-san. I'll take care of Katsuki."

He brightens considerably at this, even though Katsuki scoffs. "Okay, Dr. Momo. Please take care of my bro."

She gives them a small wave of the hand, and with that, they leave the still-noisy cafe and enter the quiet and chill of Hosu in the early morning.

* * *

The walk home, in the beginning, is quiet and uneventful. Katsuki leads them through familiar streets and stoplights to Momo's condominium, not speaking a single word along the way.

Her heels clacking on the pavement is the only noise between them. They echo all over empty streets and bounce off the alley walls. Momo doesn't mind the quiet very much. It's comfortable. Peaceful, yes, but it makes her aware of their proximity, and causes her heart to beat wildly as she takes in each and every sensation: the glow of city lights crawling on their skin and clothes with each step; the chill causing thin puffs of fog to form on their breaths; the feel of his arm, hooked around hers, where it's warmest on her body at that moment. Where it belongs.

The distinct scent of him, subtle in the cold but unmistakable from their distance. She finds it pleasant. Addicting, even.

The rush of blood through her veins. The steady beating of her heart.

Her head is swimming, dangerously so. Katsuki told everyone that the walk will sober her up, but she isn't sure that being hyper-aware of all these sensations is doing anything good for her sobriety, if it exists at all even transiently at this hour. She tries to use her voice, just to see if it still works. "We're close to home."

She doesn't slur, which is a good sign. Katsuki hums in agreement beside her, a rasp that vibrates through him and magnifies the throb in her chest.

"You still drunk?" he asks at a stoplight.

She hums, a noncommittal sound. Stares up at him. A smile is on her face. She thinks that she might look a little more foolish than usual. She knows she's acting batty, but she can't stop it.

He stares at her with an eyebrow raised, and makes an odd sound through his nostrils. "Guess that answers my fuckin' question."

His irises are really red, she thinks. Like the stoplight glowing in front of them. Like the wine she apparently haphazardly ingested just a while ago. Like the costume she designed for herself, back when she indulged in her middle school fantasies of pro-heroism. Like the blood flowing through her veins.

It's a good colour, she thinks again, for the umpteenth time. Her favourite, in fact.

"The fuck you starin' at?"

She hums again, a little playfully this time, the corners of her mouth involuntarily curling upwards. "You, of course."

Katsuki swears again, but with the rough laugh-snort that can only belong to him. "I am telling Diabetes to never fucking get you near that shit wine again."

"It's _good wine_ ," she mumbles, as red lights become green. The blonde pulls her forward.

The air around them becomes cooler. She leans in closer to him instinctively for warmth.

Three more blocks to go, and their walk will end with her drunk and alone and empty in her condominium. She racks her brain for something intelligent to say, or just something else, something to change the course of the night. Make it special and memorable, because she doesn't want this night to end. Not like that.

Still, the good wine is making it hard for her to form any good words to say.

A spot of cold, concentrated and damp, lands on her nose. She blinks and stares upwards, where little darts of rain begin to fall sparsely.

"Shit," Katsuki grumbles under his breath. As rain often does, in the next moment it falls all at once, covering both of them in a sheet of cold water as they make a run for it.

Through the torrent of rain, she struggles with her heels. The sound of it jars some sense into her drunken self, at least, and she manages to form a crimson golf umbrella in the middle of her chest.

"Here," she says, covering them both under its shade, for the little good it does-the winds are unexpectedly strong, and even though the umbrella helps, they're still damp. Cars pass by, splashing her jersey dress and bare legs in grey mud. Water gets in their shoes, and she feels one of her heels bend and break as it gets caught in between a gap in the concrete.

She almost falls, but Katsuki catches her before her face makes contact with flooded concrete. "Fuckin' rain, this better not be somebody's quirk or else I'm fuckin' killing someone…"

"I'm okay. I don't think I have a sprain," she tells him as she struggles momentarily with her shoes. Sobriety slaps her, like the dirty cold water on her bare feet. "Give me a moment to make something for my feet…"

"Fuck that." He turns her back to her and crouches low, his arms bent oddly behind him.

Momo stares at him incredulously, unsure of what he wants to happen before he spits out, "Just get the fuck on, princess. Before we fuckin' _drown._ "

"Oh-" she says quite intelligently. The rain is falling around them even more mercilessly. No time for her to hesitate.

Holding her breath, she 'gets the fuck on,' as Katsuki so eloquently put it. She feels herself lifted easily off the ground by two solid arms. He isn't unsteady at all, but she wraps one arm tightly around his shoulders all the same.

"You good?"

"Good," she tells him. Holds him closer, smells him along with the cold air. He's so close, she almost can't stand it.

Without another word, Katsuki rushes through the streets. He runs as if the streets aren't dangerously slick, and as if Momo isn't hanging off of him like a possessive spirit carrying a ridiculously large umbrella.

They make a different turn. As Momo makes a questioning sound, Katsuki cuts her off. "My apartment is right there," he growls, motioning to a complex at the other end of the side street they just ducked in.

His… _his apartment,_ she thinks with a squeak as Katsuki practically flies across the remaining stretch of concrete. It's more practical, indeed, rather than to brave three more blocks of rain to her place, but…

A man's apartment. A _single man's apartment._ No… _Bakugou Katsuki's apartment_ , the _private, intimate confines_ owned by the man she's been ridiculously pining for, for the past few weeks. This is going far, farther than she ever expected. Her brain is a stuttering mess by the time they're at the gate.

When they make it into the apartment and Katsuki lets her down, both of them are soaked to the bone, clothes clinging uncomfortably to their cold skin, their breaths thicker than ever. She leaves the silly, unhelpful umbrella out in the hall to dry, and patiently waits for Katsuki to struggle with his keys and the doorknob.

The door opens, revealing a tidy, modest space. From her vantage point, Momo sees bookshelves, a single low table, a television set, a sizeable kitchenette. There is a hardback novel on the table, next to a notepad with scribbles. A closed door at a distance, probably leading to his bedroom.

It's his, all his. Bakugou Katsuki's home. Something in the back of her mind swirls like a siren, daring her to take one step onto the wooden tile, to go past the point of no return.

He stares as she hesitates. "You comin' or what?"

She nods. Clutches her broken heels tightly, to brace herself. One barefoot crosses the threshold carefully, then two.

It's warm inside, and bright, and smells like fresh linen. Her heart throbs, taking in all the details, inhaling all the scent. Her face warms when she smells him as he hovers close and reaches behind her.

Katsuki closes the door with a gentle click, echoing much louder in her head than it's supposed to.

"Pardon the intrusion," she says softly, her voice a meek whisper that escapes from the chill of her body.

She walks quietly inside, a little ashamed of the trail of water-drops that follow her into the middle of the living room. She stands there awkwardly as Katsuki relieves her of her belongings, disappears momentarily in his room, and comes out with fluffy towels. He places one over her head like a cowl. The other one he rubs into his face and his hair, rougher than what's needed, in an attempt to bring himself to his senses, if Momo were to make an educated guess.

"Right," he rasps out. His skin, pale against the cold, recovers its color as they stare at each other, as the warmth begins to seep through. "You're going to catch a fucking cold if you don't warm up soon."

"Y-yes. We both are," she agrees. All the headiness from the Cabernet disappears, replaced by an entirely new sensation that sends little tremors in her hands, her chest, her feet.

She lets him push her around the living room and into a modest, clean bathroom. He reaches out and turns on the shower, and nods in satisfaction when steam begins to rise.

"In. Now," he says threateningly. "I'll get you some clothes. Unless ya wanna make some with your quirk?"

She shakes her head. "N-no… I'd rather avoid it, if I can. The-"

"The economy. I know." He gives her a little smirk and disappears behind the door, leaving her to stare dumbly at her reflection in his mirror.

Her hair is disheveled, skin bright against the cold, except for her cheeks, which are turning pinker every second. She's still a little lightheaded, her forehead a little warm, and she's worried that all the traipsing in the rain might lead to a fever.

The shower is warm and inviting. Carefully she steps in, letting the skin of her feet adjust to the heat. The door opens behind her, and she hears Katsuki's amused snort amidst the steady sound of falling water.

"So," he says, his voice teasing, his eyes doing something else entirely. He places dry clothes on the counter, stares her down with an eyebrow raised. "Are you getting out of that fucked-up dress anytime soon, or am I gonna have to do it for ya?"

He says it sarcastically rather than perversely, in his normal mocking tone, the one he uses when he does his little acts of charity like she's a stray he's responsible for. Momo catches the subtle little swallow he makes before he speaks, though.

She's aware of how she must look-the off-shoulder dress she's wearing is heavy with rain water and mud, the cut now lower than it ought to be because of gravity. The steam continues to rise around her, moistening her skin, the steady heat making it flush pink. She isn't ashamed, oddly enough, even when she sees his eyes hover and linger over bare skin, before focusing on her mouth.

"Do you think I need help?" she starts, teasingly, then freezing all at once when he steps closer to her.

She takes a step back, stopping when she feels the glass of the stall behind her. He's right in front of her, not moving, ruby red piercing through black.

Hesitant, nervous silence. Katsuki is so close, Momo is sure that she hears the rush of his blood through him, emanating from the pulse point at his right hand as he lifts it up to the side of her face. He tucks a soggy lock of her hair behind her ear and looks right into her eyes.

She exhales as quietly as her quivering mouth allows. Her hands are reaching out for his shirt, undoes the buttons gently and deftly until she's able to push the fabric, stubbornly clinging on his skin, off, and she's able to expose the skin of his chest, his abs.

She lets her hands run over them once, slowly. She hears him exhale a little too loudly, feels the rapid throb of his heart under her right hand, under her touch.

"Hey… you're cold, too."

She moves her hands to do it again, to appreciate the feel of those muscles move with his breath under her hands. But his warm hands capture hers, and push them back into her sides, where they can do no harm.

"Momo," he breathes, voice ragged, eyes hooded. "You're still drunk."

She shakes her head. "The walk sobered me up, like you said." She raises her hand and rests it on his face, fingers curling over the warmth of his face. "As did the rain. I'm fine."

He doesn't push her hand away. "You're still fuckin' drunk. You can't just-"

Whatever words he's about to say stops in their tracks, as she moves her face closer and catches his mouth with hers, stunning him into silence.

She hasn't kissed anyone in a long while, and a tiny portion of her is frightened that the way their teeth and noses collide and the clumsy way she pushes her mouth against his makes it obvious. But most of her mind, the parts that are blindingly sober and aware and _decided_ is ravenous and tells her that she's waited too long for this.

When has she been this forward, this shameless? Why is she enjoying the way she hears Katsuki's breath catches in his throat, the stunned look in his eyes, the sweet moment she actually renders him speechless?

She opens her mouth for a short inhale, and so does he. He closes the gap between them immediately, as if the milliseconds they're apart is too long, making up for the absence by letting his tongue dance inside her mouth, tasting the traces of wine within, making enticing sounds as he does so.

He pushes her through the stall, and water rushes over their heads, past their ears, covering them in steam and sound. The shock of the rapid temperature change makes her gasp, but she doesn't let him go.

Still, she feels him tighten his grip on her shoulders, feels him push them apart with whatever dregs of self-control there is between them.

Swollen lips, eyes in an obvious haze, water dripping over his face, his eyelashes, he slurs, "Momo... if you want me to stop at any time-"

She shakes her head. "Don't…"

He stares at her. He is stunned, obviously thrown off, but doesn't move.

She moves forward, closes the gap between them once more. His lips are _so soft._ She feels the burn of his hands over her bare skin, despite the water that runs between them, and it feels _so good_. She moves down, hears the delicious moan that escapes from him, as she tastes the side of his neck and feels the salt and the burning sweetness flood her mouth.

"Don't stop, Katsuki," she breathes against his skin. _Pleads._ Her hands reach out to run through his damp hair.

So he doesn't.

He kisses her sweetly, roughly-she knows with each sharp inhale and dig of his fingernails on damp flesh that he's waited for her too, that he wants her as much as she does. The gravity of his want throws her in a paradox of a boldness that she didn't know lingered in her, as well as an overwhelming weakness that leaves her knees weak.

His hands run all over the ridiculously soaked fabric of her jersey dress. She guides one of them over one shoulder, to push it down. Another one to her back, where she guides her fingers to the zipper that he tugs down impatiently, sending the doused cloth to drop in a messy heap on the bathroom tile around her.

"Fuck," he breathes against her mouth, hands running over her sides, feverishly appreciating all her curves with pressure and heat from his callused, explosive skin. "You're so fuckin' _perfect_ -so beautiful, all mine, you're all mine-"

She shudders as his words vibrate through her. In turn, she finally him of the silly soaked shirt, leaving her hands free to roam over those arms she's spent an eternity admiring from a distance.

"Get this shit off of you," he grumbles in frustration, slippery hands working on her black satin undergarment set. She laughs when he growls like an animal practically tears the heavy garment off her body, and gasps when his bare hand runs over her fully naked body for the first time.

She whines in the next moment, her clumsy fingers working on the buttons of his slacks. "You have to get rid of this too."

He laughs and pulls her hands off of him. "Patience, princess." He reaches out for a bottle of shower gel, works a handful of it into foam. "You're dirty. Literally. I gotta take care of you."

She makes a sound of mock-protest-he looks at her, asking her with his eyes if he should stop. She responds by grabbing those soapy hands and letting them roam over her shoulders, her chest, her stomach. She giggles when he moans appreciatively when he reaches behind her to squeeze her bottom. Eventually, he's bending over to scrub the mud off her legs, carefully lifting her feet one at a time to really get to the stubborn spots of dirt there.

He looks ridiculous, half-clothed in soaked slacks and soapy from all his efforts cleaning her, so she returns the favor. She gets a handful of soap and rubs it over spots of his bare skin he allows her to reach-his neck, shoulders, abs. She finally gets those silly pants off, and they fall in a mess on the tile with her dress.

"Fuck." He hisses, as she works on his thighs, the tense area over his boxers straining with his arousal. "I gotta-I gotta get you in the bedroom, fuck-"

He rinses them off in the speed of light and dries them off with a towel even faster than that. She can't help but laugh at all the sounds of frustration he makes with each movement.

Their mouths barely leaving each other, he finally, _finally_ lifts her in his arms, and after a brief clumsy stumble out the bathroom and across the living room, he shoves her roughly against a different door and presses her against it.

The slam knocks the wind out of her, a surprised sound escaping her. He freezes, momentarily regretful that he might have overdone it, but she holds on to him tighter, kissing him more ferociously than ever.

"You like that, princess?" he asks in between, equal parts incredulous and aroused. His fingers tighten around her hips to the point of bruising.

She whimpers at the pressure and at the way she feels him grin against her skin. "Since the first cup of coffee-"

"Fuck yeah," He hisses and dips his head down.

"I-" she gasps, as she feels teeth against her collar bone, the base of her neck. She moans as he leaves a mark there. "-like you, Katsuki," she breathes as she struggles for some semblance of clear thought. "I have for some time now-"

 _Since I saw you,_ she wants to say. Realizes for herself, at the same time. She doesn't speak, though. Can't speak. Can hardly think, with the sound of blood rushing through her ears-

The door gives way behind them, and she finds herself crossing the threshold into his bedroom. She feels herself breathless and hopelessly aroused once more when he disconnects her mouth from her to lift her in his strong arms, again, to throw her onto his bed.

(She's played this scene shamelessly over and over in her mind, but nothing compares to the reality, to the giddiness of being overpowered so easily like this. Staring up at him rather helplessly, half-naked and weak, as he hovers over her, able to do all that he wants to her-)

Nothing but the moonlight through the window, to illuminate his ridiculously strong silhouette, the hunger in those ruby eyes. For a few moments, both too long and too short, he stands at the foot of his own bed.

"Katsuki," she whispers, his name reverent on her tongue. He's _beautiful,_ more beautiful than she ever imagined. She's shameless when she looks at his muscled thighs, the bulge in his underwear, his chiseled abs and chest, his face as he stares her down just as shamelessly.

Fiery eyes dart over the skin of her legs, her belly, her breasts. He stares at her swollen lips a fraction too long before moving on to her eyes.

She's frozen in place as he crawls over her and places a gentle hand over her cheek.

"Momo." His voice is rough and intoxicating, his eyes even more so. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," she breathes, and pulls him closer. She makes her own mark on him, and his hands wander down once more to the curve of her breasts, to her sides, to the side of her hip.

His head moves down, to explore her further. She feels his hands and his mouth worship her in places that don't see the light of day. She shudders and moans as he feels her tongue on her and inside her. All she's able to do is to pull on his hair desperately. This goads him on further, becomes more merciless with his ministrations.

 _Mine,_ his voice echoes in her head, as she lets him have his way with her. Or perhaps it's her voice now, she isn't too sure. She's been waiting for this for too long.

She cries out his name, shamelessly, more than once. He crawls on top of her, places a burning kiss on her mouth, pressing his entire body on to her. Her nails go down his back, and he feels his sharp inhale against her. She feels his arousal against hers.

"Momo," he growls again, his eyes burning embers despite the darkness. "Do you want-"

"Don't stop," she growls right back, pulling his head down to kiss him further.

He hums against her mouth gratefully, and reaches out for a foil in his bedside drawer.

She watches as he tears it open, his eyes never leaving her. She wants to catch her breath as he prepares himself, but he isn't letting her. One hand is on himself, while the other keeps itself busy below her, inside her, teasing the sensitive areas he discovered with his mouth awhile ago. Her head is still spinning from her last release, and spins still when he bends over to kiss her on the neck, and aligns himself against her.

"Momo," he rumbles into her ear, in a low and sensual purr. "What do you want?"

"Katsuki, please," she whispers. She shifts herself so she can feel their point of contact, feels herself shudder in anticipation.

"I asked you a question, princess." His tongue licks a neat stripe against the column of her neck.

"Please," she whimpers when his hands press her hips against the bed, trapping her under his grasp. "Please, Katsuki-"

"What?"

She closes her eyes, feels the sting of her cheeks reddening. "I… want you," she pleads, raven eyes burning into his. "To go all the way. Please."

That's all it takes. A frayed thread snaps between them. Katsuki swears. In the next moment Momo is gasping, feeling the sweet pressure as he pushes himself in slowly, deeper and deeper until all of him is inside.

They sigh in unison as they connect. Momo reaches over and kisses him on the mouth.

"Fuck, Momo," he growls, catching his breath. She takes a second to relish the feeling of him inside her.

And then he starts to move.

Her thoughts scramble and reorganize all at once. She is suddenly incapable of any coherent thought, other than the pleasure flooding all her senses, the incapacitating desire for more, the breathtaking knowledge that Katsuki's here, so close to her, one with her, breathing the same air, and she's his, all his.

 _Mine,_ she thinks, as her arms go around his back and her nails trail hot searing lines all over.

"Mhm, Katsuki," she moans over and over, in various combinations. She isn't usually this vocal during sex, and she's a little worried of the noise she's making. The noise _they're_ making, the wet sounds, the slap of his pelvis against hers, his ragged breathing, the little sounds of pleasure escaping from her throat.

But-fuck all that. She feels the coil tightening inside her, more and more with each rock of his pelvis. Her moans get louder and louder, and when she covers her mouth for some modicum of modesty, Katsuki _glares at her._

He pulls her hands off, pins them down above her head. His eyes are on hers, on her mouth, her breasts. His hands are strong, his mouth is eager, nibbling over all the skin he can reach.

It doesn't take long before she unravels underneath him-stars fill her vision, a sweet throbbing ache fills her head and a strangled cry escapes from her throat. He follows her soon after with a groan.

They catch their breaths simultaneously. He pulls out, reaches over to kiss her once more and stroke her hair. She purrs under his touch and looks up at him with a blissful smile.

"Good?"

She hums. "Good."

He smiles at her, uncharacteristically gentle and heartwarming, and leaves her to clean up. He returns in a short while with dry clothes on, tosses hers over her haphazardly, and collapses next to her in a heap.

She stares at him in amazement as his eyes flutter closed, his breathing instantly slowing down, muscles relaxing. In the short moment she pulls on his dark shirt over her and pulls on a pair of his boxers, he's already snoring next to her, practically dead to the world.

 _Amazing,_ she thinks, with a fond smile. _He's really out like a light. He must have been so exhausted._

She strokes his hair gently, feeling her heart slow down in tandem with his as he breathes peacefully. She covers them both with a blanket, faces him, and closes her eyes.

A peaceful sleep falls over her consciousness rapidly, quiet and content and warm.

The rain continues to fall.

* * *

She wakes up from a dreamless sleep when light leaks from the window and gets in her eyes.

She inhales deeply, letting the slightly chilly air fill her lungs and quietly nudge her into wakefulness. When her hand moves up to rub her eyes, she slightly moves an arm resting on top of her, lazily curled around her neck, heavy with sleep.

Seeing Bakugou Katsuki's sleeping face, without an ounce of its usual tension or ill temper, must be a blessing not many gets to experience. His face is smooth and peaceful. Angelic, even, if she remains blissfully ignorant of his normal disposition, and the ways he had with her last night-

She blushes, and corrects herself. No, that's probably her doing. She's the one who made the first move, the one who begged, the one who told her that she thought of him that way since the first cup of coffee. Her cheeks feel warmer for it.

 _But,_ she thinks to herself, as she leans in close enough to make the tips of their noses touch, _I'm so happy…_

That's all she feels, pure and simple. One hand clutches the fabric over her chest-warmth fills it when she remembers whose shirt she's wearing, whose scent it is that she's covered in. She smiles giddily once more.

Ah, but it's sunrise. She turns, and gropes blindly for her phone, which she finds neatly placed on the bedside table. (Who knows how it got there.) The time on the clock reads 5:59 AM, and she has a number of missed messages from Kirishima-san.

 _Dr Momo did u make it home? Bkg isnt answerin his phone_

 _Lemme know once he goes home pls_

She blushes again. She completely forgot about him, and Satou-san too, who specifically asked her to message them.

 _Sorry for the late reply,_ she types thoughtfully. Of course she isn't going to tell either of them the details of last night, but she supposes it's sufficient to say, _We both made it home safe last night._

The _:)_ she adds, then removes when it feels a little too… evocative.

She presses _send,_ and decides that it must be time for her to go home. The skies are sunny, the streets aren't that damp, and there isn't much traffic yet. It'll be a short walk, with time to shower and dress-up and make it to work by seven.

She carefully peels Katsuki's arm off of her and quietly walks to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. She sighs when she sees their mess on the tile.

 _Momo, you naughty woman,_ she thinks to herself, biting her lip as she picks up the soggy clothes off the floor. She supposes she owes it to him to clean up. She finds the laundry room soon enough and gets the machines going. She'd have to send him a message then…

She hears someone grumble behind her. "Oh, Katsuki, good morning," she says with a bright smile.

"Hrm," he says eloquently. His hands are on her before she can say anything. "You're up early. Were you gonna leave without saying goodbye?"

She giggles and puts her arms around his neck. "I need to leave for work, and I didn't want to wake you. You seemed so exhausted, Katsuki."

"Whose fuckin' fault is that, huh?" Her point is evidenced by the huskiness in his voice, lowering it down an entire octave. Still, his mouth is on hers in the next moment, and she melts into it quite naturally.

Momo thinks that she can get used to these types of mornings. "I'm sorry," she says, with a bounce that says she isn't sorry at all.

"Right." He tries to smile back, but instead he grimaces. He pauses, blinks a couple of times, and mumbles a few choice expletives to himself.

Momo blinks in worry when he begins to step back, one hand on his head, his face grimacing more and more each second. "Katsuki? Are you okay?"

"Fuck, shit," he hisses, and turns to her, eyes unfocused and pained. "Momo, get the fuck away, get-"

Her veins have never felt as cold as it did then. "Katsuki, what are you-"

That's all she manages to say, before he blacks out and falls to the ground.

* * *

 **AN:** I'm sorry if u screm 2 much..

Thank you very much to the wonderful TasiasEndlessDreams for practically co-writing this chapter with me and basically just helping me concretize what I want to happen in this story! ^_^

Ahhh i hope it isn't too awkward and you enjoyed it, despite the cliffhanger at the end. the conflict has to happen some time, after all!

also, since the holidays are coming up and my schedule is gonna be insane i can't guarantee to update this and the other story on time next week! T_T i'll do my best though!

thank you for your continued readership!


	5. Diazepam

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 5: Diazepam

 _AN: Description of a seizure, and what you should do should you witness one for yourself._

* * *

His seizure lasts three minutes and forty-seven seconds. She knows because the moment he falls, she drops to the ground next to him, shoving all the laundry baskets away from him with one sweep of the arm and keeping him on his side on the other. She forms a timer from the flesh of her arm and watches as his limbs stiffen and his eyes roll back, hears his breath squeezed out of his lungs. At the second minute, she calls for an ambulance.

When the seizure stops and he's finally able to breathe, she keeps herself from collapsing in relief. She wipes her eyes from stinging tears and checks his airway and his pulses, checks for any bruises or fractures she might have missed when he fell.

The ambulance comes soon. When it does, Katsuki's eyes aren't open yet, only weakly groaning when she pinches him. She watches numbly as they take his vitals, place an oxygen mask on him, and lift him onto a stretcher. She hardly remembers answering their questions and riding in the back of the ambulance for the short ride to the Hosu General ER.

They get down and Katsuki is transferred immediately into a nearby cubicle. Kirishima sees them, meets Momo's eyes in alarm. He calls for Dr. Shinsou in a voice that is a little too loud than it ought to be in the half-filled ER. He's by Katsuki's side in a flash, checking on him and hooking him to machines.

"How long?"

"Three minutes forty-seven seconds."

"Did he hit anything?"

"He probably hit his head when he fell on the floor… but no fractures, last I checked-"

Kirishima nods. Expertly ignoring his own obvious distress, he works on Katsuki like a well-oiled machine. "Bro, you'll be okay, all right? Wake up already. Dr. Momo's worried about you," he tells him, as he pierces a line through his skin.

The blonde doesn't stir.

Momo's eyes go everywhere all at once-the numbers on the monitor, the rise and fall of Katsuki's heartbeat on the monitor, the oxygen, the drip of IV on his side. Kirishima pushes a vial of medicine through the line. Her heart is in plain turmoil, not noticing the curtain zip behind her.

"Yaoyorozu. Step back a little."

She turns and meets tired, indigo eyes, with a disheveled mop of hair in the same shade. Dr. Shinsou Hitoshi of the Emergency Department easily steps past her and goes next to Katsuki, assessing him quickly and thoroughly. He gives Kirishima rapid-fire orders for diagnostics and meds without so much as a blink. "I also need a cranial CT. Now," he says at the end.

The red-head nods and leaves the cubicle.

"Shinsou-san," Momo starts hesitantly. Her voice is strained, she realizes, when the taller man looks at her with less of his usual detachment than the norm. She inhales sharply to compose herself and clear her mind. "It happened 15 minutes ago. He seemed to know what was going to happen before blacking out…"

He looks at her with both eyebrows raised as she describes the gruesome details of the event in the cold, hard, detached clinical terms she's used to. No other injuries, as far as she knows. Shinsou, in turn, asks her a few questions-any headaches, fevers. New drugs. Recent trauma. Last seizure event before this. Any new reason for this to happen.

She doesn't know. "I know he hasn't been… sleeping well for the past few days…"

"Is that so?"

She doesn't know _anything_ about him, she realizes. An awful feeling rises from her stomach to her throat. She shakes her head at each new question, hands wringing in guilt.

Shinsou sighs in front of her. "It's okay. I can kind of guess what happened. It's Bakugou, after all."

Momo stares at him in confusion.

"I'll confirm it when he wakes up," he tells her. Kirishima comes back a second later, telling them that he's ready to be wheeled in for the scan. He gestures for Momo to follow, but stops in his tracks.

"You… might want to make yourself a hoodie or something," he says, suddenly averting his gaze. "Just catch up with us, okay?"

"... oh." Momo looks at herself, still clad only in Bakugou's shirt and boxers, with nothing underneath. She turns around to form new clothing from her thighs-just a hoodie and sweatpants that she pulls over her entire body-before speedwalking to CAT scan. By the time she makes it there, Katsuki is inside the machine, and Shinsou, Kirishima, and Dr. Tokoyami Fumikage of the radiology department are quietly staring at the monitor, waiting for the images to show up.

The machine hums and the images appear. And Momo is frozen at what she sees.

Tokoyami makes a thoughtful sound as he reviews the images. "There's gliosis over the left side right here," he says, pointing to an area of the screen. "... and a skull defect from previous surgery, most likely."

Shinsou makes a flat sound behind his mask. "So it's just the scar from before. Looks about the same as last time," he says.

"I shall verify that when I compare the images of his last scan later," the bird says grimly, scrolling through the images one more time, "but as for novel findings-I perceive nothing new. No smatterings of blood, no acute changes, no new spots of darkness that call for concern."

Kirishima sighs in relief behind them. "So, Dr Shin… does that mean Bakugou's okay?"

"We have to check him out again. He isn't that awake yet. Gotta let his attending know about what happened too." Shinsou pulls out his phone from his pocket, seemingly intending to send a message. Seeing Momo though, he stops. "Yaoyorozu. You okay?"

She sighs. The breath shakes as it escapes her. Her arms curl around herself, her blood still cold as they rush through her shaken body.

Kirishima and Tokoyami take notice, looks of concern plain on their faces. The redhead steps to her closer, while the bird pulls out tissues.

She doesn't even realizes the tears falling until she takes the tissues and dabs them over her damp cheeks. When she manages to speak, her voice cracks. "Those are old scars," she says, staring at the image of Katsuki's brain. "He… didn't tell me that he had those."

He didn't tell her _anything._ He didn't want to tell her anything. That much was clear _._

"Yaoyorozu."

But as for everyone else-

"Am I… the only one who doesn't know?" she says. Tears fall down her cheeks, hot and sobering. Kirishima mutters a soft, comforting _hey,_ but it does nothing for the heaviness dragging her heart down to her gut. "Am I the only one he… he didn't trust enough to-"

"It's not like that, Dr. Momo," Kirishima starts, but is cut off by Shinsou clearing his throat.

"I'll handle this, Kirishima." He points his thumb to the door. "Get Bakugou back to the ER. With any luck he'll start cussing you out by the time you make it there."

Kirishima closes his mouth upon the command. He gives Momo one last apologetic look before he steps out of the room.

Tokoyami nods, obviously feeling awkward at the events. "I shall retreat to the darkness of the reading room to compare the images. I shall alert you of anything we might have missed, Shinsou," he says in his usual dreadful tone before taking his leave.

Now alone, Shinsou gestures curtly for Momo sit on one of the computer chairs to calm down. He gives her a few moments to sniffle into the crumpled tissue in her hand, quickly tapping a message on his phone as he does.

When he's done, his tired eyes regard her carefully. Silently. A little awkwardly, truth be told. But politely he waits for her to regain some semblance of dignity, and she appreciates him for that.

Momo breaks the silence between them. "I apologize for… my hysteria, Shinsou-san. It's just that…"

 _I thought I was close to Katsuki. I thought I was actually getting to know him better. I thought he trusted me._

"... this is all a shock to me," she ends up saying quietly.

It seems that the weight of her words don't escape the other doctor. His forehead creases slightly as he tells her, again with a careful tone, like he's stepping on eggshells, "I understand. I guess you really didn't know anything before it happened."

"No, not at all," she admits sadly. To this, Shinsou sighs.

"Don't beat yourself up over it. Bakugou doesn't like talking about this. You know, being the dumbass that he is." Shinsou looks like he's trying his best to be comforting, but it's obvious that he's very, very bad at it. His words come out clipped and cold in his baritone, and his tired gaze flickers for a while before settling on flat, rather than soft as he might have originally intended. "If you're wonderin' why we know about _this,_ though… it's 'cause he and Kirishima and I go way back. High school, to be exact."

Momo blinks. "UA General Studies?" she asks.

He hums in affirmation. He exhales a long, tired breath, a testament to what might be years and years of… exactly _this._ "I can't tell ya all the details of how it happened right now. Suffice to say, though, he's already had his condition when we first met in first year of senior high. He was a lot worse then-hated taking his meds, had attacks every other day at his worst. I dragged his ass to the ER so often that I probably shoulda gotten credited a few years off my residency just helpin' him out."

"I see," she says quietly. That's why Kirishima is so worried that night. That's why Kaminari keeps making sure that he gets home on time. Momo should have been more aware of the signs. She should have been more steadfast in investigating this.

Really, Momo. Are you even a proper doctor… a proper friend, for missing this?

"He calmed down when we grew up, though. He started being a better patient… heck, was even able to make it beyond UA, with his brain intact," Shinsou continues, in a more gentle monotone. "Admittedly… I haven't seen him since he moved here really recently to open up his cafe. This might be his first ER visit in a while, so..."

Oh, god. Coming home late for many nights, just to speak with him-keeping him up last night, until he just about collapses on the bed… Is this… her fault?

"I bet he's adjusting his meds on his own again," grumbles Shinsou, fishing out his phone to check another message. His eyebrows furrow, and he gestures for Momo to stand up. "Anyways, his attending is here. Let's hurry. If you got any questions about his case, I guess he's the man you have to speak to."

Momo nods, and wills all her guilty limbs to move. As busy doctors are prone to do, she follows Shinsou as he practically sprints through hallways, dodging people and stretchers and wheelchairs expertly, looking like an athlete.

They slow down as they make it back to the ER. Momo sees Kirishima's legs underneath the curtain, as well as another pair clad in skinny jeans. As they come nearer, she hears voices from within, the timbre of which sends a fresh new wave of cold in her veins.

"... and the scan showed nothing," the stern voice says. Momo catches the way one leather-clad shoe taps against the floor impatiently. Adrenaline flows through her blood, as per three years of conditioning has trained her body to do so.

"No, doc," Kirishima answers. "Doc Shinsou saw it too, he should be here any second-"

Shinsou pulls the curtains open abruptly and composes himself as best as he can. "I'm here. Sorry to keep you waiting, Dr. Hakamata."

Indeed, Dr. Hakamata Tsunagu, aka the renowned neurosurgeon Best Jeanist, stands there in all his perfectly coiffed glory, clad in his trademark denim suit and pristine doctor's coat. For one reason or another, he already has in his hands Katsuki's chart, and is signing a messy scribble of orders for Kirishima to carry out. He glances at Shinsou and his hair, nose wrinkled in distaste. "As you should be. Do you keep me waiting and style your hair as such to irk me purposefully, Dr. Shinsou?"

"No sir," Shinsou says, running a hand semi-consciously through his wild locks.

Best Jeanist exhales in disdain, as he does for at least a hundred times in a usual day he spends with residents. He only notices Yaoyorozu belatedly, it seems, and gives her a look as if he doesn't recognize her. "Well well, Dr. Yaoyorozu. I didn't think you would… _deign_ to dress yourself in such an avant-garde fashion while doing rounds."

Momo is too stunned at the set-up to say anything at first. Next to her, Shinsou clears his throat and says, in the best polite tone he can muster, "Yaoyorozu's with Baku-I mean, with the patient, sir. She's the one who called the ambulance from home."

The neurosurgeon blinks. "Oh."

Momo finally gains some semblance of order in her head to reply, "Yes, Dr. Hakamata. I was with Katsu-I mean, Bakugou-san this morning when he had the breakthrough attack. I… apologize for my disheveled appearance-I simply didn't have time to get dressed."

He tilts his head. "Oh," he repeats, with a hint of amusement. "I suppose it's understandable in those circumstances… yes, I understand now."

She doesn't know what to make of the odd look in his eyes, but it doesn't matter in the next moment when Katsuki begins to stir.

"Bakubro!"

"Bakugou-"

"Katsuki..."

The blonde blearily opens his eyes, squinting against the light angrily. He might be a little disoriented when he looks around, but he stares at all of them with a purpose, as if he'd been listening to their conversations with his eyes closed for a short while now.

Slowly, he directs his squint to Dr. Hakamata and scowls with a purpose. "Great. The fuck did you call this fabrics bastard here, Mindfucker?"

Shinsou gives him a warning look and says, "He's your attending, Bakugou. Of course I'm gonna fucking call him."

Momo's mouth is open, a hundred questions ready to launch, one of which is _Katsuki, what on earth?_ And another, _Dr. Hakamata is your attending MD? Since when?_ And ending with, _are you truly all right now?_

But all those questions fizzle into nothingness at the tip of her tongue when Dr. Hakamata regards the explosive blonde with his usual judgmental glare. With his arms crossed over his chest, the neurosurgeon employs the chilliest tone when he speaks the next moment.

"It's nice to see you alive and well again... Dr. Bakugou."

* * *

 _Fuck,_ is the first solid word that Bakugou Katsuki is able to think of when he comes to and stares at a ceiling that he's sure isn't the laundry room of his small apartment.

The light gets into his eyes, magnifying the dull ache in his head. He only realizes that he's awake then, although it's hard to make sense of all the sensations flooding his consciousness at that very second-the smell of antiseptic, the thin blanket over his sore body, barely doing its job of keeping him warm from the blast of the a/c overhead. Beeping noises to his right, voices he struggles to recognize next to him.

Realization hits him full-force then-he's had another fucking seizure.

"... early this morning, sir." The voice registers as muffled first, but through squinted eyes he sees the shade of red that can only belong to one shitty haired-nurse. Someone brought him to the Hosu Gen ER, then. Dammit. "Three minutes, forty-seven seconds… we were told that the seizure looks the same as before."

 _Shit._ His head really fucking hurts. His body, too.

Another familiar voice-Katsuki sees sickening sunshine-yellow in a 3:4 ratio, and dark blue, and he knows instantly which bastard this is. "And the scan showed nothing."

The fucker's got a solid ten feet of stick shoved up his anus, as usual. Katsuki doesn't need to be fully conscious to imagine the judgmental, uptight leer on his face that makes Kirishima stammer out something about Shinsou, the other ER fucker who probably called this one to see him in the first place.

 _Fuck this,_ he curses again inwardly. _Last thing I need is Best-fuckin'-Jeanist fussing over me._ When he wakes up fully, he decides to give that purple-haired mindfucker a piece of his mind.

Soon, he hears said mindfucker's drawl somewhere a bit farther from where he lay, although he sounds a little more respectful than the norm. Predictably, Best Jeanist tells him off for his hairstyle (really, can't this dandy fucker just leave other people's hair alone?! Is it too fucking much to ask to keep his obsessive-compulsive fingers from doing the ¾ partition thing?!).

His rage almost makes his eyes fly open to tell the fussy fucker off. That is, until he practically _hears_ the old bastard turn up his nose. "Well, well, Dr. Yaoyorozu…"

 _Shit. Momo._

The mention of her name causes a flood of images to flash through Katsuki's mind-a lot of them images from last night that he isn't sure are quite real, because they sure do feel unreal. Damn, did they really go that far? Did he really fall asleep with Momo on his bed, in his arms? Dressed her up in his clothes? Woke up in the morning, looking for her and actually finding her there, under his roof, with the biggest, most beautiful smile he'd ever seen on her face?

It sounds like an elaborate daydream, a too-good-to-be-true hallucination that could very well be part of his seizure. A confabulation, maybe, from his shitty brain injury. Doesn't matter how real the memory of her face, her smile, her touch seem. Doesn't matter how his fingers remember the softness of her skin, or how his nose remembers the scent of rain in her hair-

Fuck, he needs to see his brain scan for himself. Shinsou probably missed something.

Still, he hears the mindfucker trip over his words that Momo was the one who had him brought here. And instantly, he wants to explode his shitty self on the spot, because of fuckin' course Momo, the one person in the world he _didn't_ want to be there, would be the one to see him drop to the floor seizing like a useless piece of shit.

"Yes, Dr. Hakamata. I was with Katsu-I mean, Bakugou-san this morning when he had the breakthrough attack. I… apologize for my disheveled appearance-I simply didn't have time to get dressed."

And apparently he made her run to the hospital wearing almost nothing. Great.

Shit. Katsuki really, _really_ hated himself right then.

Still, it should be about time to open his eyes. As light floods his vision, again, a chorus of voices calling out his name come from all sides. He avoids all of them-Kirishima's exaggerated sigh of relief; Shinsou's mildly bewildered stare, like he's a bomb about to explode; Momo's fucked-up stare that tells him she's shaken to the very core and _shit_ he really shouldn't have involved her in this-and instead, looks at the careful gaze of Dr. Hakamata. "Great. The fuck did you call this fabrics bastard here, Mindfucker?"

"He's your attending, Bakugou. Of course I'm gonna fucking call him." There's an extra dollop of dour in his perpetually bored stare, but Katsuki knows that he's relieved. He always is, when the blonde gets oriented enough to say _fuck_ again.

And he would say fuck again, especially when said fabrics bastard raises his eyebrow at him, like he's the prodigal son begging at his doorstep. "It's nice to see you alive and well again... Dr. Bakugou."

"Tch." He hates how the words feel on his ears. He hates how he sees Momo's face shift as the words drop, how a million questions run in front of her eyes, too fast for either of them to catch. He sits up with some struggle and looks away, before he's able to see whatever it is she might be feeling right now. "Can you not? I'm not a fucking doctor anymore."

Dr. Hakamata scoffs heartily at this. "It's a perfectly valid thing to call you, _Dr. Bakugou_." He repeats it, underlining it with some vestige of uppity exaggeration that only suits him, making Katsuki's blood boil. "Last I checked, you're still a licensed physician who passed the medical board fair and square."

"I don't. Fucking. Practice. Medicine. Anymore," he grits out, clenching his teeth so hard his already sore jaw throbs again.

"It doesn't matter," the neurosurgeon says with a sigh. And then, in a softer, still stern voice, he turns to the other people in the cubicle and utters, "Leave us."

"But Dr. Hakamata-" Katsuki wants to physically _flinch_ hearing Momo's voice, and all the tinges of hurt and confusion staining her voice. "He… he's _my_ patient-I have to know-"

Her voice cracks, paving way to an uncomfortable silence in the cubicle. It catches his ear; the sharp edge of it snags the edges of his heart, like fragile silk against a rusty nail.

He really… doesn't know how to face her anymore.

"No he isn't. He's my private patient." Best Jeanist's voice drips with authority, his stature even more so. "Or have you graduated from residency overnight without your training officer knowing, Dr. Yaoyorozu?"

Momo's mouth closes audibly. "No sir."

Dr. Hakamata gives everyone else a pointed look, and it isn't long before Kirishima, Shinsou, and Momo quietly step out of the cubicle, pushing the curtain shut as they do.

Now that the cubicle is empty, Dr. Hakamata removes his authoritative air. He gives another long suffering sigh as he descends on a monobloc chair at his bedside. "So. Seizure aside, you're looking well, Bakugou-kun."

He knows he fuckin' looks like hell-sleep deprived, muscles all fried from seizing, with a dried spit at the corners from his mouth from all the frothing. It's Katsuki's turn to scoff. "Sarcasm for a patient? Really? Are you that fuckin' salty that I haven't had a follow-up with you for the past year, Best Jeanist?"

"Perhaps," the doctor says without remorse. "I'm not lying, though. You look like you have more time for yourself. You look like you've been working out."

He shrugs. "I'm still busy. Being a cafe owner ain't easy."

Best Jeanist raises two sharp, blonde brows up at him in interest. "I imagine it must be… _different_ from being a pediatric surgery fellow? More manual labor? Less load on your cerebrum, I imagine? More time to sleep?"

Katsuki curses again. This fucker really can't let some things go. "It's not like what I'm doing right now is easier or less relevant! You don't know jack shit! Can you just… stop?"

"No." He pauses to give way for the _fuck_ that predictably escapes the younger blonde's mouth. "I know, it's your choice to quit medicine or to do what you want in your life. I know I should be sorry for _still_ insisting on your potential to help people as a doctor a year after the fact... but I don't. Not at all."

"Well you should be, you fabric fucker," Katsuki grumbles, looking away from his stupid condescending glare. "You're supposed to be treating me, not fuckin' guilt-tripping me over my life and choices. Fucking neurosurgical bastard."

Again, Best Jeanist releases a long suffering sigh. Katsuki hopes all the fabric from his stupid jeans and jirt and joes unravel from his stupid sighing. "I am. This is part of proper history taking, you know. I even thought to remove your verbally abused close friends-you know, the ones that _genuinely care about your well being,_ astoundingly enough-from the vicinity, so you could be honest with me, the one person who won't give you any bullshit."

Dr. Hakamata is a person who makes a big deal about proper decorum and all that, so the little slip of profanity is his way of telling Katsuki that he better stop giving him bullshit too. He gives him a piercing stare and says, "I am genuinely curious as to why you would have a breakthrough seizure when your schedule isn't as hellish as before, our meds are adjusted to perfection, your bloodworks are normal, and there's apparently no new injuries in your little brain."

Katsuki makes another angry, animalistic sound and looks away. Best Jeanist stares at him the way his old hag stares at him when she knows he's accidentally exploded some shitty cheap decor at home, with his quirk. He doesn't fuckin' like how effective that stare is.

"I… haven't been sleeping that well," he grumbles, after a period of silence.

"That wasn't a big problem before."

"Well, it is now."

Best Jeanist hums. "So. How many hours do you sleep usually?"

He does the math quickly in his head. Last night was an exception, with just a couple of hours of dreamless sleep after… those things happened. But on a given day, he makes it to bed by twelve and wakes up at five thirty, to start prepwork in the cafe by six. He tells the doctor so.

"Hm. Seven hours is the norm, but that's definitely a lot healthier than your previous sleep habits." The badgering look on his face doesn't go away, though. "No, Katsuki, I think this is different. Dare I say it, you've been noncompliant with your meds. Haven't you?"

Katsuki clicks his tongue.

"That's a bingo, then," Best Jeanist says, with another condescending roll of the eyes. The explosive blonde closes his fist before dangerous sparks fly from it. "How many times must we have this conversation, boy? Don't just adjust _my_ meds without my knowledge. Of course you're going to have another attack if you decrease the doses by yourself-"

"I was doing fuckin' better," he says through gritted teeth.

"-and look at you. _Not_ having another breakthrough within a year." Dr. Hakamata stands up from his seat, surprisingly dry after all the dripping sarcasm it has seated. "There are proper protocols for this, Bakugou-kun. Have you perhaps forgotten all that you've learned from med school already?"

Of course he hasn't. If he were to take the medical boards right there and then, even with his brains fried after the seizure, he'll pass it. No exaggeration. Still, he doesn't tell the denim fucker that. Maybe if he thinks that he's dumbed down the past year, he'll start leaving him alone.

"Well… I'm not surprised. Doctors are the absolute worst when it comes to taking care of themselves, after all, aren't they?"

"... shut the fuck up," is the best response he could give to that. The irony leaves his voice harsh and weak, leaves him unable to look at the older doctor in the eye.

The tall neurosurgeon stares at him once more. As usual, half his face is obscured by that ridiculous denim shit on his collar, but there's no doubt of the sincerity in his expression when he says, "All right then. Not another peep from me. Please, take care of yourself, Katsuki."

Dr. Hakamata steps out of the cubicle, curtain fluttering open and closed behind him. There are mumbled words exchanged between him and Kirishima that last for a few moments before he's left alone with just the beeping of the monitors, the drip of IV through his veins, the tumult of his fried brain cells realigning themselves to his crappy reality.

"Fuck," Katsuki says for good measure, before collapsing back on the bed.

* * *

Momo hates how helpless she suddenly is. Kirishima pats her on the back comfortingly, but shakes his head when she asks to see the chart. "I don't think it's okay to do that right now," he tells her apologetically, giving a glance to where Dr. Hakamata's jean-clad legs peek from underneath the curtain, "and he wrote a lot of things I have to carry out immediately. I hope you understand, Dr. Momo."

She isn't one to get in the way of someone actually doing his or her job, so she doesn't push Kirishima any further.

She looks at Shinsou, who is murmuring to himself as he reviews the scan from earlier on one of the computers at the nursing station. As she peeks from over his shoulder, carefully burning the images of Katsuki's brain in her head, she finds nothing new-just the telltale signs of a sizable brain injury, more than a decade old if Shinsou's story is to be believed. Before she can ask the other doctor what he thinks, Dr. Aizawa Shota taps on the table to get his attention. "Crit Bed 2, now" is all he says, before the younger doctor is on his feet without giving Momo a second glance.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. She doesn't remember how it got there, truth be told. When she checks the time, it's already well past an hour from time-in. She has a number of messages from her colleagues already-some from Kendo-san asking her if they're still doing rounds on their pre-op patients together, some from Todoroki-san and Honenuki-san asking where she is and that Amajiki-senpai thinks that the world is ending because for the first time ever, she's late without prior notice.

She hits her forehead with some force-Momo, there's no excuse for your unprofessional behavior! Despite all that's happening to Katsuki-no, Bakugou-san-no, to a _patient who isn't even your patient…_

Numbly, she types a message of apology to all of them. Not much of an explanation other than, _At ER with Dr. Hakamata, will sign in soon._ Seconds after sending, Todoroki-san sends a plain _ok_ and leaves it at that.

She stands awkwardly in the crowded ER, with swollen eyes and a horribly loose set of clothes, feeling more alone and worthless than ever.

She hates the way it feels.

After watching the curtain for far too long, it opens again. She isn't able to see Bakugou-san from beyond it when Dr. Hakamata steps out to meet Kirishima-san. He gives him more rapid-fire orders in a low tone and makes his way towards the station.

She takes another deep breath, wills herself some bravery despite the inevitable verbal lashing. "Dr. Hakamata," she calls.

"Yes, Dr. Yaoyorozu?" Best Jeanist asks. He has his fountain pen out on the surface of a prescription pad, doesn't even look up from writing medications when Momo comes closer.

Her eyebrows raise when she sees that he's writing home medications. "Y-you're sending Bakugou-san home? After what happened?" she asks incredulously.

He hums. "He's awake, oriented, without any new findings. His bloodworks are all within acceptable numbers. Imaging findings are unchanged from last time." He signs the prescription with a flourish and pushes this to Kirishima, who nods meekly and dashes out of the tense situation as fast as he can. "I don't see any indication for keeping him here for longer, do you?"

"B-but he might have another breakthrough. It might be best if we were to closely monitor him further-"

"No, Dr. Yaoyorozu. Listen to me." Dark eyes stare into hers intently, sternly. "I don't understand the relationship between you and Bakugou-kun, although your… state of dress, and the fact that you called the emergency from his home, tells me that you two must be closer than expected."

Momo shrivels under his eyes. Still, she shakes her head. "I… we aren't," is all she's able to manage, not without a pang in her gut.

He softens his gaze-looks almost _pitying,_ even. "Still… this mustn't be easy for you, correct?"

She nods mutely.

"Of course not," he says sympathetically. "That's why I don't expect you to be objective enough to meddle in this case. I can't allow you to act like his doctor-surely you understand how irresponsible it would be, how reckless you can act despite your good intentions."

"But…"

"No," he tells her again, in that oddly soft tone he's never heard him use on her, or any of her co-residents before. Those wide, dark eyes of his lock into hers once more, and she has no choice but to listen. "Trust me on this one, Yaoyorozu. Trust me, as the doctor in charge of his case for the past fourteen years. Bakugou-kun doesn't need another doctor fussing over him."

Momo exhales shakily, and stammers, "But… what can I-there has to be _something_ I can do…"

Or maybe not-Bakugou-san doesn't seem to _want her_ to do something, if the way he avoided her gaze inside that cubicle were any indication. The pang in her gut is practically a black hole now, draining all the words and pointless reasonings in her mouth before she can say them.

"Well… among other things, I suppose you can _look_ more reliable for him."

She feels deft hands on both her shoulders, straightening out her posture. The hands are in her hair the next moment, combing out the strands in an odd display of comfort. She blinks in confusion when Dr. Hakamata is done straightening out her strands, so that her bangs are arranged meticulously to the side and her hair falls straight down her back.

"There. That's better," he says. He places the disposable comb in the palm of her hand as he looks at her from other angles to admire his swift, precise work. "See? You look less miserable already. Stronger, even. You both need the appearance of strength, at the very least."

Momo tries not to look too dumb. "Um… the appearance…?"

He nods and motions for her to pocket the comb. "I can't tell you much, but… I _can_ tell you that it will be hard to get through to him, Yaoyorozu. He will need you to at least look strong for him, before he allows himself to trust you."

She feels her lower lip quiver when she bows her head. The gentleness in his tone is too much. "Thank you, Dr. Hakamata," she says, when she runs out of things to say.

"All right. Now, go create yourself some decent clothes please. We still have that aneurysm case in a couple of hours."

Just like that, Dr. Hakamata shifts into his Best Jeanist persona, the tough, no-nonsense neurosurgeon. When he steps out of the ER and into the hallways, nurses and doctors of all ranks mumble greetings and keep their eyes to the floor. The gentle words he mumble disappear in the air like bubbles, as if they didn't exist.

Momo exhales, clears her head, and goes into the toilets to create some decent work clothes for herself.

* * *

She takes her time preparing herself. When she steps out, she catches a breathless Jirou-san, obviously having rushed from across the street, speaking with Kirishima.

She moves to greet her, but is stopped by a hand on her shoulder-Shinsou's. He's just stepped out of the critical unit by this time, still huffing from the adrenaline in his veins. "Yaoyorozu… it's okay. Jirou'll take care of him," he says.

"But…"

He shakes his head. "I… know Bakugou. Really well." He has a hard time looking into her eyes. "He… might lash out on you if… if you force yourself on him. I don't think you'd like that."

From the distance, Jirou disappears behind the curtain. She hears muffled voices and a choice curse word.

"So… am I just supposed to leave him alone?" she asks him numbly.

"... yeah." Shinsou gives her an apologetic look. "For now."

"For now."

He nods. "Please. I'd hate… to see him push _you_ away, you know? I'd hate to hear things that you guys might regret."

The look in his eyes tells her that he's seen years and years of _that_ happening.

She relents. She steps back, turns away for good measure. "You… do know him best, Shinsou-san."

"Not really," he concedes with a shrug. "But I know enough."

She tries to smile at him. It probably comes out as hesitant, if the careful way the purple-haired man regards her is any hesitation. "You know... I didn't even know he was-he _is_ a doctor, until now." She curls one arm around herself in a show of helplessness. Her voice strangely empty as she continues, "He... must not trust me enough. Not like you."

Shinsou looks mildly surprised, and then exasperated as he shakes his head. "He's a dumbass. That's all there is to it, Yaoyorozu."

From a distance, she hears Kirishima giving Jirou instructions about meds, what to watch out for, what to do in case of emergencies. Katsuki mumbles a few choice curses under his breath, while Jirou tells him in the same acerbic tone to shut up and listen.

And then they leave, and the voices disappear. Momo thinks that he probably doesn't even pause to see if she's still there.

With her hair down, she steps out of the ER and tries to shift the gears in her brain to get to work. Shinsou sees her out of the ER before he leaves her to her lonely walk up to the residents' call room.

* * *

 **AN:** Okay so this chapter is angsty. Sorry about that! On the plus side though I'm able to finally write Best Jeanist in the story! I've been excited to write him-he reminds me of someone I know very well and who up to now strikes fear into my heart whenever i see him at work T_T I'm also pretty happy to finally write in Shinsou in this story. He is a big character in Bakugou's past (they're all in UA's class 1C together at one point, after all!) and will recur more when we explore Bakugou's backstory!

And this whole thing with Bakugou is a needlessly complex headcanon of mine to explain why the heck he feels the need to go to bed early, funnily enough. Sleep deprivation is a known trigger for many patients with epilepsy to have breakthrough seizures (which is what happened to Bakugou). A more common cause for a breakthrough event is, of course, a patient who for one reason or another is unable to take the proper doses of his meds at the proper time. Which is also what happened to him in this story.

Gosh I want to get back to writing the fluffs but! I hope you guys bear with me through the angst first!

Again thank you for the support, and sorry this is published later than intended. Happy holidays y'all!


	6. Croque Monsieur

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
**

Chapter 6: Croque Monsieur

* * *

Another day, another emergency.

It's already late afternoon, and Momo tries to focus despite not having slept even a minute of the previous night. The patient she just saw, a civilian involved in a scuffle between a hero and a villain in the Naruhata district, suffered a blow to the head, a spinal fracture, and a broken hip. She probably needs to take the patient to the OR soon, but…

"Excuse me," she asks one of the ER nurses, "what's taking so long? I need a CAT scan, stat."

Everyone's moving so slow, it's simply unacceptable. The nurse stammers an apology. "They said we can bring in the patient in 5 minutes, Doc-"

"We might _lose_ the patient in 5 minutes-"

"Yaoyorozu," someone calls from next to her. She doesn't look up from the chart.

"I'll give them another call, Dr. Yaoyorozu."

"Yes, please." She shakes her head, tries to get back to writing her notes down, but her irritation made her lose her focus, and she loses track of what she wants to do in the middle of an order. Her mouth goes _tch_ before she's able to stop it.

"Yaoyorozu."

Momo… of all the habits to pick up. Honestly. She feels something awful arise in her chest.

Her orders don't make sense. Not a single thing she wrote, makes sense.

"Hey." A callused hand stops her hand, and the pen in its tracks. She looks up from her work and glares.

"Awase-san," she says, in the most level voice she can manage. "Is there anything wrong?"

Awase Yousetsu's eyes are as sharp as ever when he stares her down. He takes the pen from her hands, twirls it in one dexterous hand. "Yeah. You. What's up, Yaoyorozu?"

"Nothing," she answers quickly. Yousetsu doesn't give her the pen back, so she creates one from the flesh of her left forearm and gets back to struggling with her orders. "Except, I'm trying to get things done for the patient in bed 3, and our system in this hospital just… isn't moving fast enough. You should know Awase-san, Ortho's on this case too-"

"Yeah," he cuts her off, pulling the chart from her easily. "But you aren't on call. Tetsutetsu just called Todoroki. They're on their way here."

She glares at him. "I was the one who received the call first, so-"

"You were supposed to inform Todoroki to give him the case. You're supposed to be on the way home."

She's about to retort before she's interrupted by a gregarious yell from behind. "Hey! Awase! Yaoyorozu! That the trauma case?"

Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu's voice is as loud and cheerful as ever. It doesn't always give Momo a headache though. She presses the space between her eyes, reeling from the auditory assault, and barely registers Yousetsu's response. He hands the taller man the chart, easily dodging Momo's weak attempt to get it back. "Yeah, here. Is Todoroki goin' down soon?"

"Yeah! He gave the OR a heads-up and everything! We're meeting up at CAT scan!" Tetsutetsu flips through the pages and makes a loud _ah_ when he reads the last entries. "I didn't know you were on the case too, Yaoyorozu! Ain't Todoroki on call?"

"Yeah. It's Half-and-Half today. Yaoyorozu's just about to go home." Yousetsu doesn't even give her time to respond. It might be unfair given that he's technically right, but Momo decides that she dislikes him very much, at that point in time.

"Er… yeah, okay!" The silver-haired man looks at the two of them warily, like he detects something is off, but doesn't have enough to put two and two together. Or more of, he doesn't want to recognize the tension between his two former classmates. The way he's avoiding their gazes tells Momo as much. "So… I'm going ahead! Awase, you're goin' home too, right?"

"Yeah man. I'll see ya tomorrow."

Tetsutetsu gives them a cheesy grin and starts shouting at the nurses to start moving the patient to CT. In turn, Yousetsu pulls Momo away from the nurses' station and out the ER exit, where there's no-one to listen to what is presumably, the impending argument between them.

"Yaoyorozu," he repeats more gently. Steely eyes try to look into hers, even though she pointedly avoids them. "You're pissed off."

"No, I'm not."

He doesn't move. "If you got something to say to me, say it."

She's had enough arguments with him in the past to know that he won't stop until she spills everything. She inhales slowly. "I… could have managed that one on my own, Awase-san. I do not appreciate how you… interfered with my process."

He gives her a stony look. "Yeah. That order sheet you were workin' on had so many errors in it, it looks like one of Shishida's when he accidentally goes on beast mode while writing. You shoulda just gotten a new sheet of paper."

"I was fixing it," she argues weakly.

"You were raising your voice at the nurse who was just doing her job."

"She wasn't doing it very efficiently."

"She was doing her best. You know our system here isn't perfect."

"Yes, but it should be. Our patients depend on us, right?" Momo says smartly. They have been depending on her for the past… thirty-six or so hours, and heaven knows she's been doing her best the entire time. Everyone should, no matter how terrible they're feeling-

Her head throbs, making her grimace.

She turns away, hoping he doesn't notice, but of course, it's Awase Yousetsu and his tingling 'Yaoyorozu-sense,' as Tsuburaba-san had described it so eloquently before. Most of the time he knows when she needs help, and somehow always knows when she isn't feeling very well. His exasperated sigh tells her as much.

His voice is more careful when he speaks again. "Is it really about the patients, Yaoyorozu?"

She knows that tone of voice very well. He's gentle, but suspicious. Forcing her into honesty, even though she thinks it's completely unnecessary. "What else would it be about, Awase-san? I-"

"I don't know. We haven't even talked, or even fuckin' _texted_ in a while, so I wouldn't know what's up with you," he cuts in, in his usual no-nonsense kind of way. Despite the weight of his words, she's sure that he isn't doing it to guilt-trip, he's just laying out the facts.

(Still, Momo wonders if she's hurt him in some way for him to say that.)

"But I like to think I know you well enough to guess. And I'm, like, 100% sure you're pretty fucked up over something right now."

She shakes her head. "It doesn't matter if I am… bothered by anything-"

Because it shouldn't matter that she has not slept that well, and has consistently been skipping meals. Shouldn't matter that Kendo-san and Honenuki-san and even Todoroki-san, who doesn't usually speak up about these things, have told her that she might have been overdoing it. It doesn't matter that Amjiki-senpai has talked to her once again, asking her the very same inane questions and accusations that Yousetsu's giving her now.

All she needs to do is work. All she needs to do is to help people. That's why she's here.

"Momo."

She doesn't give in, not even when he inexplicably uses her first name again after three long years. Professionals should act professional and not bring their troubles to work. That's why she straightens out her posture, looks him right in the eye like nothing's wrong. "I just need to do my best."

"But right now, you can't. You look like you're about to keel over any second now. Did you even notice?"

No. If she remembers that she hasn't eaten, her stomach will complain. If she pays attention to how tired she is, she'll feel nothing but exhaustion. If she thinks of… of the things that make her sad...

 _It's been two weeks,_ a small, despondent voice in her head reminds her, making her heart wince.

"I'm fine."

Yousetsu sighs. "Really." She's frozen when out of nowhere, he tilts her chin upwards and stares right into her face.

He hasn't done that in a _very_ long time. Momo is surprised at how familiar this all feels, still…

He's being clinical about it, when he examines her skin and eyes. "You're really pale," he tells her seriously, looking at her side to side, mumbling something about the hollow of her cheeks not being there before. "And you lost weight. I bet it's cos you've been skippin' meals and makin' matryoshka dolls at home until you pass out."

He… is scarily accurate. She doesn't tell him that, though.

He gives her a bored smile. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Please," she tells him, releasing her chin from his grasp. "It doesn't matter, because I need to get back there and see my patients."

When she turns to leave, he holds her by the wrist and pulls her backwards. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"I'm activating my quirk on you."

"No, you're not. It's illegal quirk usage, and I will complain."

He gives her a challenging stare, and fuses his hand to her wrist anyway. Her jaw drops in offense.

He chuckles. "Okay, now you're payin' attention, Yaoyorozu. Come on."

Momo doesn't even have a say as Yousetsu leads her by the hand to the exits and out the streets at the back of the hospital. She's annoyed, but a little relieved that he doesn't take her out the lobby, where the NTG Cafe and its staff are visible from as far as the doorway. Again, she wonders if it's Yousetsu's instincts, or just his insanely sharpened common sense that made him decide where they go.

When they're about three blocks away, he un-fuses himself from her wrist. When she eyes him suspiciously, he shrugs. "I just wanted you to breathe something different from the air inside the hospital. It might help your stubborn head think a little clearer."

She pouts. "You know I can just march right back there and get back to work."

He shrugs, and gestures to the empty street ahead of him, going away from the hospital. "Do what you want. Though, Todoroki's doing your work now, and Tetsutetsu's doing mine. Meanwhile, I'm gonna be at Monoma's, eating a croque monsieur-"

The image of Monoma's famous snack flashes in her brain, making her mouth water. Momo's stomach suddenly complains out loud. Yousetsu guffaws much louder. She gives him a sour look as she clutches her traitorous tummy in a foolish attempt to quiet it down.

"So there. Go back if you want to, I guess, Momo. See if that growling goes away."

He turns and walks at a leisurely pace, hands in pockets, whistling a little tune. Momo stares at his retreating figure and the elongated shadows along the street.

She looks at the sky-deep oranges, purples, pinks, steadily darkening as the seconds pass by. She didn't even notice that the sun was setting already.

She's… hungry. Exhausted. Miserable. The feelings aren't going to go away. Not soon.

She walks forward, keeping up with Yousetsu's stride. She pointedly keeps her eyes forward, but sees him at the periphery with a small, satisfied smile.

Wordlessly, they walk along the orange-stained streets to Monoma's.

* * *

"Here ya go, you guys. Two croque monsieurs, a quiche paysanne, a crêpe suzette, a black coffee with muscovado sugar, and an iced coffee." Tsuburaba Kosei-san places the orders in front of them one by one with an easy smile on his face. "Ya need anything else, man?"

"We're good, bro. Thanks."

"Sure, any time." There seems to be extra meaning in the way he smiles at Yousetsu. She concludes that the wide-eyed server is definitely getting the wrong idea about her, and his high school friend right there.

Seems that Yousetsu might be thinking the same thing, judging by the pointed glare he gives Kosei before shooing him away. "Okay. I know you haven't eaten anything since this morning when Kendo force-fed you a nutribar, so just dig in already."

"How do you know something like that?" she asks him suspiciously. Because again, he's scarily accurate, the way a stalker is scarily accurate. She's sure that he wasn't there when Kendo-san practically shoved half a nutribar in her mouth while they were doing rounds.

He answers easily, "Kendo told me. It's not just me who's worried about you, you know." He pushes the quiche and the crepe, dishes that she didn't order for herself, closer to her. She gives him a look of disdain.

"This is too much, Awase-san."

"You eat twice as much in a normal meal."

"But… I don't think I can finish this." It's true. Her appetite had just shut down inexplicably.

"So take the rest of it home," he says, in between bites. "Oh man, this is really good, though."

It really is. It's better than she last remembers it. But after she's taken two angry bites of Monoma's perfect croque monsieur, her stomach is telling her that she's already half-full. She chews, tries to analyze the salty, savouriness of the ham and how the swiss cheese compliments the overall flavor of the dish, but the words don't come.

It's… been two weeks, since she's done that.

The man across from her notices how she fights down her food. "Hey, Yaoyorozu..."

"Hm?"

He sighs. "I guess I was wrong about how hungry you were. You don't have to force yourself to eat everything, if you can't. But I want you at least finish half of that. Can you do that?"

She swallows the small portion, and nods. "I'll finish everything. Don't worry."

"Well… all right," he says quietly. "Just… tell me if you feel sick, or whatever. Or you know. If you want to talk, or something."

She cuts through the pastry quietly. "Talk about what?"

"Anything you like," he says flatly.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Is he going to force her to talk, again? She isn't really ready to share anything. She kept herself insanely busy to avoid processing her inner turmoil by herself. Does Awase Yousetsu expect her to do it with him, of all people? "I don't have anything in particular I want to talk about."

He's a pushy person. He usually doesn't stop pushing her until she says something, anything, _everything_ he wants to hear. And usually, what he wants to hear is the truth, nothing more and nothing less. It's a difficult trait to deal with, at times.

So much to her surprise, this time all he does is nod. "Okay."

She blinks in astonishment. "... okay?"

He nods again, quietly munches on his sandwich. When she continues to stare at him dumbly, he gives her a mildly offended look. "You look a little surprised."

"W… well," she begins awkwardly, "This is just. A little different, I suppose. You forced me out of the hospital, after all."

He sighs. "That's different. I needed to do that because you might actually die if I didn't get you outta there."

"But before…" She trails off, hesitates.

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "No, that's…" He makes a small frustrated sound that sounds funny to Momo's ears, making her smile. He struggles with his words and stammers, "I mean, four years together is a long time, so I guess you'd still expect me to act the same, but…"

Momo shakes her head with a reassuring smile. Those four years weren't terrible, but they really are a distant past. "No… this is… okay. Thank you, Awase-san."

He nods, and goes back to his food and coffee. He finishes his croque monsieur when she's barely halfway done with hers, and eventually decides to finish the crepe by himself.

As he cuts through the sweet, Momo's mouth opens on its own accord. "I-"

His head snaps up in attention.

She closes her eyes, inhales. Hopes for a smidgen of composure, because she's _sure_ that her voice will crack-and it does, when she begins speaking. "I… was hurt, Yousetsu. It… it feels wrong to feel that way, but…"

Stupid, Momo, why are your eyes already stinging? Why are your cheeks already damp? You haven't even started yet, haven't even begun your silly, sordid story.

"Hey," he says comfortingly. He gives her a neatly folded handkerchief with the zig-zag design as his headband. Momo takes it gratefully and dabs her cheeks.

"I learned that he was… keeping very important things from me," she manages to say without stuttering. "Maybe there's a good reason for it, but… I wouldn't ever know them now."

He hasn't even tried to speak with her. She's called and texted as many times as she could before her courage eventually wavered. All of them left unanswered. She hasn't had the gall to show herself in the cafe just yet, but…

Yousetsu's lower jaw juts out, obviously annoyed at what he's hearing. Damn, if it didn't remind her of that man. "What exactly happened?"

Momo takes another deep breath, and tells him everything as quietly as she can. Her story is in disarray, and her voice cracked so many times that it's embarrassing, but he doesn't tell her off for it and lets her continue at her own pace. He hums in understanding and tries not to react too much, even when she admits to have been intimate with the man-in-question.

After she tells him everything, he lets out a long exhale, as if the story took a lot out of him, too. "That's… messed up, Momo. I'm sorry you had to go through that with that dumbass."

She laughs somehow. By this time, her eyes aren't that damp anymore, although they feel very puffy. "Shinsou-san has also called him the same thing."

"That's 'cause he is." Yousetsu huffs in annoyance. "He may have gone through a lot, but doesn't he fuckin' owe you at least a single word? Suddenly treating you like you were nothing, fuck, I want to fuse that smug bastard's face against the side of the street-"

"Calm down," she tells him sternly, but with some humor. It's a small relief to see that Yousetsu is as hot-headed as ever. It's funny how the two of them are similar in some ways, except Yousetsu is just a little calmer. "I don't think he owes me anything… my worry about the entire thing is how I probably forced myself on him, and-"

It's a hard pill to swallow. She's the one who keeps coming back to the cafe to eat his food and to speak with him until past closing time. She's the one who drank all that wine and cornered him into taking her home. She's the one who kissed him first that night, and…

"What? No, that's stupid." He looks much more annoyed than before, going as far as gritting his teeth. "That bastard is just as interested in you as you are with him. I should know, that day he dragged you out for lunch, we fought over-"

His mouth closes suddenly, and Momo is left to stare at him curiously.

He clears his throat and recovers. "We argued. He was _sure_ you'd come down even if he paged for Dr. Ponytail. _Especially_ because he called you Dr. Ponytail. As if he's putting his mark on you with that weird nickname. I thought it was stupid and impolite, so I wanted to beat his ass."

Momo suddenly remembers seeing the two of them argue that day. During the time, she was too focused on him to really notice what was going on, but…

"Why… were you there in the first place?"

"I just was," he says, a little exasperated. "And something felt off about him. I dunno."

It's the 'Yaoyorozu-sense' again, Momo muses. Will he ever get rid of it?

"Enough about that." Yousetsu gives her a serious look. "What do you plan on doing about this, Momo?"

She shakes her head. "I've… opted to try to move on. Focus on my training, and nothing else."

"Work yourself to death, you mean," he quips with a frown.

"What else am I supposed to do?"

"Not work yourself to death is a good option? I dunno, just a thought."

Momo sighs. "I didn't think I was? Look, I'm not about to knock on his door to force him into letting me take care of him…"

He'd hate her for that, she's sure of it. He doesn't want her to see him as a patient. That was Dr. Hakamata's point that day, the reason why he kept her away from Katsuki. Why he told her to look strong, to actually be strong so Katsuki could trust her. She has to be something else for him, but right now she can't quite figure it out.

Besides... how can Katsuki trust her, if he suddenly doesn't want anything to do with her?

Yousetsu hums. "Yeah, don't. So… maybe take care of yourself first? I don't expect you to get over this fast, so… baby steps."

She gives him a look of disdain while shaking her head, and he gives her a similar look while nodding. "Awase-san-"

"Yaoyorozu-san," he says, imitating her high tone. He begins to look ridiculous, so she bursts out into a short bout of laughter. "That's better, we can start by making you laugh," he says after she's done.

She feels a little odd then, and she realizes it's because she hasn't laughed a lot the past week. She supposes he's right. He usually is, even though he can be pushy and annoying about it. She just needs to calm down, try to move on without stretching herself too thin.

Easier said than done. But at least the croque monsieur looks a little less daunting at the next bite. When she's almost done, the bell chime over the door sounds. She sees a messy green mop of hair behind Yousetsu's head.

"Ahh, please don't close yet!" the man says to Tsuburaba, who seems to be ready to flip their signage closed then. "I just need food, please, pretty please!"

Tsuburaba huffs. "Sure, but it has to be to go. The boss wants to close early today. He's got important places to be. Or so he says."

Awase rolls his eyes. "Ain't even nighttime yet. Jesus. That guy's a lovesick fool," he grumbles.

"You know it," the wide-eyed server nods sagely, allowing the customer in. "Come on Midoriya, you like the cake salés with ham and gruyere right? I got the last one for ya here. Let me heat it up."

Dr. Midoriya Izuku of Pediatric Surgery looks terribly relieved at that. "Thanks, Tsuburaba-kun! I'd like a baguette too, if it isn't much of a bother..."

Tsuburaba tells the fussing Midoriya to sit down first. It's then that the green-haired boy sees the two of them in their booth. He regards them with a wave. "Awase-kun! Yaoyorozu-san! Mind if I sit there with-oh…"

He stops mid-step when he sees Momo's face and all its puffiness and redness. "O-oh, I m-mean, if it isn't rude, I d-don't need to sit there, I mean I can sit anywhere else I'll be okay-"

Momo hasn't had a chance to work a lot with Midoriya, this man in sheep-print scrubs, thick glasses, and more freckles on his cheeks than anybody else she's ever seen. Therefore she doesn't know much about him, except that he's nice, perpetually awkward, and that he actually trains in Musutafu Children's Hospital. He's in Hosu Gen for just one year, for more villain- and quirk-related cases.

Also, he's nice and very cute the way an infant lamb is cute. Momo shakes her head and shifts in her seat to give him room. "It's alright, Midoriya-san. Sit next to me."

"Is that really okay?"

"Yeah. Don't mind Yaoyorozu's allergies," Yousetsu says flatly, gesturing towards the seat. The green-haired boy accepts the explanation, albeit a little uneasily, and obliges.

"Thanks! Um, allergies are awful, aren't they? I, I have some antihistamines somewhere in my backpack, if you want-"

She shakes her head. "I'm doing better. Thank you for offering, Midoriya-san. You're very kind."

"Hah, no, that's-" Momo thinks that it's awfully cute how easily he stumbles over his words, how just the act of her speaking to him makes him so clumsy. It's endearing.

He's… the exact opposite of _him_ , she thinks.

Momo, why-why would you suddenly think that, Midoriya-san has nothing to do with this mess, please stop thinking of him-

She doesn't understand what Midoriya says afterward. Yousetsu replies, and eventually they get to talking about a case they'd worked on together. She sits quietly and lets them have a normal conversation. Heaven knows it's been long since she's had anything like that.

It's been two weeks, since-

 _Stop._

Tsuburaba comes back with Midoriya's take out. In a minute, he wraps up all of Momo's leftovers and hands it to her protesting hands. "You still do midnight snacks, right?" he says with a grin. "If this ain't enough, come back here tomorrow. I'll make sure you get the best of the batch."

She smiles at him graciously. For a loyal customer, she hasn't been here in a while, and maybe Tsuburaba-san isn't the only one to notice. She'd have to change that.

Baby steps.

Midoriya and Yousetsu live in the same apartment complex two stations away. They agree to walk Momo home before taking the train together.

The sky is already dark as they walk the streets in relative silence. Midoriya keeps the air light by chatting about the new All Might anime that Studio Bones has released. Yousetsu keeps the conversation going, but everytime Midoriya asks Momo what she thinks, she gives a noncommittal response. She doesn't even have the energy to tell him that she doesn't watch a lot of anime. Maybe the disinterest is obvious by the way the green-haired boy stammers and blushes.

 _Sorry, Midoriya-san_ , she thinks as he looks at his slightly deflated form. It's just a little hard to take on a normal conversation right now…

Soon they reach Hosu Gen, across the street from Momo's condominium. "Thank you for walking me home," she says, with a bow. "I'll see you both at work tomorrow."

"It's fine, Yaoyorozu-san," Midoriya says with a nod. He falters a bit when Yousetsu steps forward and holds on to Momo's shoulder.

"Momo," he says in a low voice. He sounds just as he did three years ago, when they decided they were better friends than lovers, and the time after that, when Yousetsu has proved it time and again. "You'll take care of yourself, right?"

She nods and honestly tells him, "I'll take care of myself."

He gives her a genuine smile. "You'd better."

Midoriya clears his throat and turns his eyes away, obviously uncomfortable and easily embarrassed. "I'll… I'll wait for you over there, Awa-ah…"

The shock in his voice makes Momo and Yousetsu snap their eyes to him in unison. For one reason or another, the baguette that was in his hands is on the ground, and his eyes are wide open at the people before him.

From the distance, Momo sees two individuals: Shinsou, clad in his coat and scrubs, tired eyes and face carefully neutral as he speaks to someone who looks like he wants to be somewhere else.

The other has a shock of flaxen hair and a navy blue apron. A flash of the white of his teeth, as his jaw juts out as it does when he's annoyed. One large hand, the lines and creases and calluses of which Momo's got memorized, holds a small orange canister that goes in the pocket of the apron. Eyes, ahead and glinting red under the street lights-

"K… Kacchan…"

The mention of the name makes everyone freeze. Momo watches the scene play out before her, barely notices that Yousetsu's hand is still on her shoulder. Shinsou and Bakugou Katsuki slowly turn to them, to Midoriya Izuku, who inexplicably already has tears in his eyes.

Katsuki stares at the green-haired boy first, utter shock in his eyes that transforms to irritation. And then he sees Momo, eyes going right into hers, before they go to the hand on her shoulder, and…

"Kacchan," Midoriya cries, stepping closer to him, as if he's seeing an apparition instead of a human person, "Y… you're here, I can't believe it-"

She feels the moment Katsuki's eyes disconnect from hers-a fragile thread breaking, the snap of it echoing in her head, painful and sobering. He makes a grumbling noise when Midoriya touches him, swats his hand away. "Shitty fuckin' Deku, what the _fuck_ are you doin' here?! Aren't you supposed to be in Musutafu?"

"N-no, what are _you_ doing here, Kacchan? Oh my god, I thought-I thought you went far away, I thought I'd never see you again! B-but if you're with Shinsou-kun… oh no, did you have another attack? Did you get hurt again, Kacchan? Tell me, I'm here-"

" _Fuck you, stay away."_ He growls, and pushes Midoriya so hard the smaller man's glasses fall off his face, and the rest of him almost crashes to the ground. It's so that Shinsou has to hold Katsuki back. Yousetsu jumps next to Midoriya to support him.

"Easy," Shinsou says warningly, clutching the fabric over Katsuki's front. He receives a glare in response.

" _Easy_? Shut up, you mindfucker, he's butting in my business again, as if it's his job to fix me! It's fuckin' annoying!"

"B-but, Kacchan-"

"Oi, Bomb-face, take it easy!"

Katsuki makes a sound like a cornered animal that makes the hair at the back of Momo's next stand. He glares at Midoriya first and says nothing. He glares at Yousetsu next, teeth bared. "Mind your own business, Headband Fucker, unless ya wanna go?!"

"Oh, you wanna go, is that it Blondie?!"

"N-no, Awase-kun, please don't hurt Kacchan, he didn't mean-"

"Y-you-shut up you fuckin' useless nerd, don't fuckin' speak for me as if-"

"You fuckin' asshole, can you leave Midoriya alone?! Why the fuck do you wanna kill him?!"

"Because he doesn't mind his own fuckin' business! And you know who else is a meddlesome fuck, Headband?!"

They're at the verge of a brawl, and Momo knows that someone has to do something, but she's absolutely _petrified_ seeing the violence in Katsuki's eyes. The security personnel of the hospital are sensing the trouble, and are edging in closer to them. She has to do something, she has to get to Katsuki, she has to-

Momo, please move your feet, please, just _run_ next to Katsuki, tell him it's all right, he doesn't have to be angry, he doesn't have to do anything or say anything he'll regret further-

Her feet remain on the pavement. Her breath remains at the back of her throat, the air frozen in place. She opens her mouth, tries to call out his name, but nothing comes out.

Shinsou rightfully looks like he's had enough of this. Momo hears him mumble something under his breath. When his voice comes out again, it's deep and commanding, unlike anything Momo has heard before. "Midoriya! Shut your fuckin' trap!"

"B-but-"

The effect is instantaneous. Midoriya's eyes glaze over, face instantly impassive and free of distress. He stops struggling from behind Yousetsu's arm. Like a mannequin, he stands straight, eyes going to Shinsou's, waiting for the next command.

Silent anger barely concealed, he glares at him and everyone else. "Step away from Bakugou. Stand next to Yaoyorozu. Don't move another muscle 'til I say so."

The docile Midoriya does just that. As quiet as a mouse, he stands next to Momo. She sees the tears fall over his blank face. It's disconcerting to look at.

"You two." Shinsou says to Katsuki and Yousetsu, in that same unsettling voice-deep, quiet, but dripping with authority, demanding anyone who heard it to listen and obey. "Are you gonna stop this shit, or am I gonna have to brainwash your dumbasses?"

The anger in the air, heavy and overbearing, doesn't go away. Still, the two men stand down, Katsuki going _tch_ as he does so.

"Good." The only rational person left in this scenario rubs his tired eyes and turns to the blonde. His voice is more subdued when he speaks again. "Go home. I'll handle Midoriya."

Katsuki glares at him, as if to tell him off for daring to tell him what to do, but doesn't say anything. His gaze moves on to Yousetsu, still with that brittle anger in his eyes, and then to Momo.

Eyes glinting like embers. Words like smoke, unreadable, floating in the air and disappearing. Katsuki looks at her eyes, her mouth, the rest of her, but… everything is different. She can't read him anymore. She doesn't know.

There must be something she can do for him. She knows it in her heart, she wants it so badly it hurts, but...

He's too far away.

It only lasts a second, but in that second she feels her heart drop.

Katsuki looks away. "Do what you want."

He might be telling this to Shinsou, but his words reach her all the same-a stray bullet that goes through skin and sinew, burning through her chest, making her head and her eyes drop to the ground, away from his.

Without looking back, he crosses the street and disappears into his cafe.

* * *

Hard days pass after that fateful encounter.

For Katsuki, at least. The cafe is as busy as ever, but it's okay. Work is good, even though Jirou treats him like he's five and glares at him whenever he's a minute late drinking his fucking meds. Having missed the breakthrough entirely, the snoopy Kaminari hovers over his shoulder constantly, expecting him to keel over any moment. They probably mean well, but he's sick of this kind of treatment. He isn't fucking weak and fragile, god anyone just try him, just let him murder one more person who tells him to sleep early god fucking dammit.

He doesn't have another follow-up due with Best Jeanist, thank fuck. Even though he's one of the rare few who thinks that Katsuki's bones aren't made of glass, he hates seeing that dandy fucker. Constantly reminding him of the past, as if he can fucking go back there and go back to normal. God fucking shit and damn, it's enough motivation not to fuck up drinking his meds anymore, if it means not seeing this guy for a prolonged period of time.

His so-called-friends aren't any better. Shinsou is trying his best to be fuckin' normal, but he can tell that he's extra careful around Katsuki, like he'd spontaneously combust in the next moment or something. And ever since that shitty fucking Deku saw him again, Kirishima's been adamant for the two of them to kiss and make up. First of all, yuck. Second of all, fuck you shitty hair Bakugou fuckin' Katsuki doesn't just make-up with anyone, least of all Deku who, after all this years, _still_ doesn't understand that Katsuki's health is any of his business.

 _Deku_. Shit, just seeing that green-haired crying mess forcing himself on him again, fuckin' hell! If Shinsou wasn't there Katsuki doesn't know what he could have done to that nerd. After the hell that is their shared middle school experience, it's hard enough getting along with him in UA. Hard enough that the shit followed him into the same med school and the same residency in Musutafu Children's hospital. All that time with all that guilt, that _complex_ that he doesn't want anything to do with.

He doesn't need that in his life. He doesn't need Deku or that stupid look in his stupid face, as if he's the one who needs him. He doesn't need shit.

And… Momo.

Well.

What about Momo?

It's five AM on a weekend and he's staring stupidly in the ceiling, trying his fuckin' hardest not to think of her. Obviously failing, because he's flashing back to that street where that Headband Fucker is touching her shoulder, looking at her tenderly like there's no-one else in the world except her.

That look on her face when she turns to him. Confused and shocked and scared and infinitely _sad_ and fuck him if he didn't want to drop dead right there. His rage against Deku was what kept him going that day. It's hard looking at Momo in the eye.

That kind of look doesn't suit her, Katsuki thinks. She's never going to stop looking like that as long as he's around her.

 _Shit,_ he really hates that Headband Fucker, wants to shove his palm and burn that stupid oversized shit off his forehead but what if that guy is who Momo needs right now?

"Argh!" he growls to the vast expanse of emptiness before him.

Nothing follows. He's alone. Momo isn't there anymore.

He sits up and cradles his head. He isn't going to get any fucking sleep just moping about the past like this, he concludes as he stands up and stretches.

Might as well run.

* * *

The streets of Hosu are empty and dark when he comes out. The streetlights are beginning to dim as the sun begins to slowly rise from the east. He inhales a lungful of cold air and heads out.

Deafening rock music blaring in his ears, the thud of concrete under his feet, the stretch of empty street before him. It's a good enough combination for him to forget about the shit that's happening right now. And if he drops dead this time at least he can do it in peace and quiet.

The rhythm is hypnotic, his brain shuts down except for the parts that will his body to move, just the way he likes it. The sky is turning brighter, the shadows of his body start to appear, and his thoughts shut down and fade into silence-

It's so that he doesn't notice the flash of white coming from his right.

"Waaah!"

He doesn't snap out of his trance until the collision is milliseconds away from happening. With all his reflexes, he blasts his way up and over the other jogger and lands about three steps away from him. The other guy, probably too surprised to steady himself, falls to the ground.

He doesn't hear the crash of the other guy's body, though-much to his surprise, half of it sinks to the ground, which is suddenly soft, for some reason.

Katsuki is at his side in the next second, offering his hand which the other man gratefully takes. "Sorry. I didn't see you," he says gruffly, pulling him off the concrete, which is suddenly quicksand.

"Yeah, same here," the guy says with an easygoing smile. Well, as easygoing as his skull-like appearance allows, at least. He stands up and dusts himself, touching the ground once more as he does. It turns solid. "I'm okay though, I softened the ground right as I fell. How about you?"

"You're the one who fell there, Skeletor, I'd worry more about you than me." He's had enough shitty people worrying about him, thank you very much.

He expects the guy's face to sour with the new insulting nickname and all-Katsuki wonders why he's so rude, sometimes-but all the other guy does is laugh. "That's a cool name! All my online handles in middle school were like that."

What the fuck, he's too nice for someone he almost blasted in oblivion.

"But… if you want, you can call me Honenuki too. That's my real name," he says, extending his hand out to him. "I live in this neighborhood."

He doesn't usually make friends with anyone clumsy enough to crash into him while he's deep in a running trance, but dammit this guy is so nice it's hard even for Bakugou fuckin' Katsuki to remain his rude and abrasive self. "Uh. Yeah. Bakugou," he says dumbly, shaking his hand. Momentarily he worries that this Honenuki guy will turn his hand to mud too, but luckily he seems to nice even for that.

"Bakugou," Honenuki repeats, with a curious tilt of the head.

He raises a skeptical eyebrow. "What?"

The fuck, he wants to continue, but he doesn't want to cuss out this new guy. "Sorry for staring, but you seem familiar-"

Before he can ask though, someone's running towards them. "Honenuki-san, what on earth-"

Jesus Christ. What did he fuckin' do to deserve-

"Yaoyorozu," Honenuki says, with an awkward laugh. Too late he realizes that he's waist deep in shit when Momo freezes ten feet away from them with those terrified doe-eyes locked on Katsuki's. "Um, so… it's my fault, I was running and wasn't watching where I was going, and almost ran into Bakugou-kun over here who was just… running a different route, and, _excuse me Bakugou-kun that stings-"_

He almost forgets to let go of the other guy's hand mid-hand shake. When he does, the other guy's hand flares red with heat and shines with nitroglycerin. A few more seconds and Skeletor will have a few bones less from his hand. The way he smiles at Momo though, like he's a cop reassuring a hostage in a warehouse full of thugs, you won't be able to tell.

The thug in this situation being Katsuki, of course. He doesn't miss the way Momo tries to avoid his gaze and focuses instead on Honenuki. "I heard explosions. Are you injured?"

"Nope! We're fine, really." Poor fucker seems to be choking in the tension, but he tries to smile all throughout. "So, um… we were talking about a race earlier, right Yaoyorozu? I've given you enough time to warm-up, right? Bakugou-kun, if you'll excuse us-"

Katsuki grimaces and turns with a shrug of one shoulder, fully intending to get the fuck out of there and pretend that seeing Momo in that ruby red tracksuit of hers didn't simultaneously make all of his guts feel like lead and his chest feel like it's on fire and his brain go stupid. But two steps into his jog, he hears her call out from behind him.

"Bakugou-san. Race me."

He stops in his tracks. A ridiculous look is on his face when he glares at her.

"Uh. Yaoyorozu?" Honenuki stammers, astonished. "What… are you doing?"

What the fuck _is_ she doing? One eyebrow raised, he gives her the most lackadaisical smirk he can manage. "You heard the bony fucker. What the fuck are you doing?"

"You heard me. Race against me and Honenuki-san."

"And why the fuck would I do that?"

"We made a bet," she says. Arms crossed, with a confidence and swagger she pulled out of nowhere, she steps closer to Katsuki and looks him right in the eye. "Loser does whatever the winner says, no questions asked. Nothing more, nothing less."

Honenuki stammers something useless behind her that Katsuki doesn't catch. All he's able to see is the fire in her eyes, the steely determination, the sudden absence of uneasiness and fear in them.

He's fuckin' mesmerized, but he doesn't say it. Still, he doesn't know what the fuck she's up to. "I ain't interested in racing against slowpokes like you," he says, mockingly.

She shrugs. "Afraid? Well… I suppose I can't blame you."

 _Afraid?! Who's afraid?!_

She turns, the ponytail of hers swishing behind her and falling down her slender back in the way he really likes. Not enough that the swelling irritation in him calms down though. He grabs her shoulder roughly, pulls her in so that she sees the rage in him up close and personal. "Who's fuckin' afraid, Ponytail?"

She doesn't flinch. Just smirks in a way he's never seen before, eyes burning hot. "It's on, then."

"You bet your fuckin' brains it's on."

Behind them, Honenuki sighs in exasperation.

* * *

The route for the race is simple enough-a loop starting from the Lawson in the corner, passing through 5th avenue and back through the side streets, roughly 1.5 km in distance, uphill at the start and downhill to the finish line.

"So whoever reaches this spot wins," Honenuki says, tapping the pedestrian lane with one foot. "Do your best you two, but I gotta tell ya, I hate to lose."

"I know you do, Honenuki-san," Momo says with a smile. "But I won't lose just for you."

Katsuki scoffs. These two are fuckin' dead.

Momo leaves an alarm-clock like contraption at the side of the street, the sound of which will signal the start of the race. They take their places behind the line, with Honenuki in the middle. Katsuki leans down and focuses on the street in front of him.

The alarm sounds, and they run.

Predictably, Katsuki takes the lead so easily it's comical. Despite all the shit that has happened to him, he's kept himself strong and fast and sharp all these years, not slacking off working out even when he was incredibly busy in the hospital. Being strong is all he knows after all, since he was young and had all those stupid dreams of being a pro-

(He was going to be the strongest of them, he was going to be number one, better than anyone in history, better than All Might… he was, he really was, if only-)

He hears footsteps thudding behind him, far away. His legs are screaming and his lungs are thirsty for air, but he can still keep going. He hears ragged breathing louder than he hears their footsteps, making him smirk in victory.

(What the actual fuck was Momo thinking, challenging him like this? She's really soft and really gentle, he knows, _remembers_ just how those legs and thighs feel under his touch-transformed them into jelly with just his hands and mouth-does she really expect herself to outrun him with those beautiful legs of hers-)

He reaches the top of the hill and begins to feel the strain of sprinting his way up there. He slows down a bit, but not too much to allow either of them to snatch the lead from him. He turns to the sidestreets, where the downhill slope begins, and continues the run.

It's hard on his knees, but he can manage it. Soon he sees the convenience store and the finish line, and there's no fuckin' way that those two brainiacs can snatch the victory from him-

He laughs out loud-there's too much adrenaline through his veins now, more than he knows what to do with. In an attempt to use it up, he screams, "See ya at the finish line, losers!" which echoes along the empty alleyways, reverberating with the roll of wheels against the concrete-

What. Wheels?

He doesn't realize it soon enough-the rolling noise comes closer, next to him, then ahead of him, in a blur of red and black, ponytail whipping him in the face along the way.

"The f-"

The sight of Yaoyorozu Momo, in just a sports bra and track pants, jacket nowhere to be seen, riding a fuckin' _longboard_ like she's Tony fuckin' Hawk, should be the stuff of his pubertal fantasies on a normal day.

But seeing her edging closer to the finish line like a fuckin' cheater just makes him want to explode.

So he explodes. "Oh no you fuckin' don't, Ponytail!"

His hands explode behind him like jets and propel him forward. He flies in mid-air, reaching the blue of the sky, faster than he's ever allowed himself to fly, falling faster than even that.

Soon he sees concrete and red and black, zooming closer and closer-Momo reaches the finish line and looks up at him in sheer horror-

 _Shit I'm gonna kill her. We're gonna die,_ he thinks a tad too late. He reaches out for her, catches her in his arms, twists them so that it's him that will take the brunt of the crash on the unforgiving pavement, and…

He lands, with a _splort._

Not the nicest of sounds, but it's a safe and soft sound, at least.

Honenuki emerges from the ground beside them, wheezing as if he swam a mile. "Oh my gosh, are you guys okay? I barely just made it here-"

Katsuki wheezes back, "I'm good…"

Honenuki exhales in relief, and pulls himself up as if he's in a swimming pool. "How about you, Yaoyorozu? Honestly, I thought I was going to have to bring you guys to the hospital after this race-"

Momo isn't moving very much, but Katsuki feels her breathing. He rubs his hand across her bare back and arms. No fractures there, at least. "Oi. Skeletor's talking to you. You okay?"

She looks up, nods. And slaps him hard on the face.

"What the _fuck,_ Momo?!"

"Yes, Honenuki-san, I'm okay, because I. Won." She stands up and stumbles onto the solid ground nearby. Dusting herself off, she doesn't spare him a glance when she says, sternly, "And you deserve that, Katsuki."

He knows he does, but what the fuck is this timing?! Right after challenging him to a fuckin' race and then cheating to get to the finish line, what the hell?! And she's the one getting pissed?! "Who the fuck won?! Using your quirk to win, that's fuckin' cheating!"

"Whoever crosses the line first, wins. There's no rule against using quirks," she points out matter-of-factly. "Among the three of us, it's obviously me. So the two of you owe me."

By this time, Katsuki's out of the mud, and Honenuki has turned the ground solid again. But while he is staring dumbly at Momo and her uncharacteristic snappiness, the mudman only looks mildly miffed at the turn of events like he expects it.

"You won fair and square, I guess, so I owe you breakfast," Honenuki tells her. Eyeing the two of them and the unresolved issues between them, he points a thumb away from them. "I'll go ahead and order for us, Yaoyorozu. See ya in a bit."

She smiles, and lets him go ahead. When he's out of sight, she eyes Katsuki with a disconcerting quiet. A breeze blows past them, making her ponytail sway with the wind, spikes flowing behind her gracefully like she's in a shampoo commercial.

She… is ridiculously attractive like this, Katsuki thinks, making his loss all the more unbearable. He bares his teeth at her threateningly, and grits out, "What."

She tilts her head, raises her eyebrows in question. "I beg your pardon?"

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "So. You fuckin' won and shit, even though you cheated me out of it, but apparently I owe you something. What do you want."

She smirks-who the fuck taught her how to smirk, he's going to kill the bastard who made her face even more attractive than it is-and steps closer to him. "Don't worry, Katsuki. I'm not going to make you do something for me. I just… want to know something. Please answer me truthfully."

He tries his best not to make a face. He knew she was going to use this win to dig out some answer that he isn't prepared to give, or to let Momo hear. It's why he tried his best to win in the first place.

Shit, he should have blasted his way to the finish line from the start. Stupid rule. Still, if Momo has to resort to shit like this, maybe it's what she needs right now. So he steels himself and says, "What do you want to know?"

Shit, he's done it. She's going to ask about that shitty fucking Deku, why he's ready to kill that fucker on the spot. She's going to ask what the fuck happened to his brain, why Best Jeanist knows him since middle school, why that guy called him Dr. Bakugou, why he quit medicine altogether. Why Shinsou and Kirishima treat him like he's a toddler who can't take care of himself. Why he's like this.

Why he couldn't man up and face her.

She inhales softly, onyx eyes gently searching his. Searching for what, he doesn't know, but the intensity of her eyes is too much. He looks away and focuses on the pole behind her head.

When she speaks, he feels pressure welling up in her, as if she braces herself to stand against a tsunami. "When," she says, after a meaningful pause, "is your birthday?"

He stares at her dumbly, waiting for the punchline.

"... what."

She repeats with all dignity, no nonsense: "When is your birthday?"

"My birthday," he repeats incredulously. "The reward of the win you almost _died_ for. You're using it up to know my birthday." He doesn't know how his face looks like. It must look like a confused pile of shit, but Momo doesn't falter, not even with the ridiculous look he gives her.

"Yes," she answers primly. "Are you going to honor our bet, or not? It's exceedingly simple, Katsuki."

He scoffs and keeps himself from mumbling a curse under his breath. "Suit yourself," he finally grumbles, rubbing his forehead. Taking another deep breath, as if he's about to reveal a deadly truth about himself, he rasps out, "April 20th."

"April 20th," she repeats, with a nod. "Year?"

What the fuck, he thinks to himself, as he rumbles out the year, still incredulous.

She processes this information briefly and nods. "So you're 27 years old," she says. "As am I."

He shrugs. He knows she's just turned 27 last September 23rd. Because they talked about teas, and she mentioned some snooty cousin of hers who gave her tea from the Himalayas for her birthday, and then she asked about his birthday and he and _refused_ to tell her, just skirted around the question until they were talking about something else, and-

Wait, why _didn't_ he tell her that back then? There was no reason not to tell, come to think of it. Before he can think too deeply about it, she's giving him a curt bow and turning away.

"Thank you for telling me," she says politely, beginning to half-jog away from him. "I have to go now, Honenuki-san is waiting."

Katsuki nods dumbly and grunts. Again. How many times has he dumbed down in front of this girl this morning, seriously?

With a swish of her ponytail and a small, genuine smile on her mouth this time, she adds, "I suppose I'll learn more about you when you lose, next time."

"When I lose?! Oi, who's gonna-"

But before he can finish the sentence with a juicy profanity, she's already running off like she hasn't this morning, not looking back. Soon, she's gone, and he's alone on the empty streets of Hosu, exhausted beyond belief but less heavy with secrets and regret. He strangely feels more alive than he felt before.

He shakes his head and begins his walk home. There's no fuckin' way he'll lose to Ponytail next time, though, secrets be damned.

* * *

 **AN:** So the pacing might be odd and I'm sorry about that. It's just that a lot of what was originally planned in this story is vastly different because the outline i made is beginning to look like garbage to me and i had to change it omg. so i rearranged some scenes, made Momo less of a blubbery mess than originally intended (yay) and made Katsuki a lil more emo (wah!) and put Honenuki there because I luv him very much... and also Awase I luv him too, I can't just turn him into that asshole ex, he's gonna be the ex you're gonna feel bad for hahahaha im sorry about that

And Deku, oh my sweet summer child I'm sorry for doing this to you but there's really a good reason for that hehehe. I gave him glasses because he'd be insanely cute in them, he's the cute pediatrician that can give kids vaccinations without making them cry to the heavens hehehee

So... some weird shit just happened and we get to see glimpses of Bakugou's past, let's see if I can narrate it in a nice, straightforward manner in the next chapter (spoiler alert i probably won't haha sorry).

Thank you for all the nice words and kudos, I can't quite believe a lot of people are reading this because heh rarepair and i'm just loving the fact that there are more bakumomo shippers out there than i originally thought. u guys are the best! Happy new 2019 all!


	7. Bacon and Eggs

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 7: Bacon and Eggs

* * *

The memories are hazy because it's been so long, but Momo remembers odd bits and pieces of that late afternoon: her lying down on her stomach over the plush carpet of her room, notebooks and reference sprawled around her, the perfect image of diligence. However, her eyes are focused on the television set and nothing else. It explains the sour look on Mother's face as she and a maid comes in with tea and crumpets.

"Momo, dear," her mother says in a tone that's as gentle and sharp as a scalpel through anaesthesised skin, "What is this shameless vulgar display they're broadcasting so early in the afternoon?"

She sits up straight and arranges herself in a more ladylike posture. "They're highlights from UA's Annual Sports Festival, already edited and screened by CNN Japan. It is not meant to be vulgar, Mother."

The reporter describes an unexpected student's explosive debut, figuratively and literally. She clearly remembers Mother's scowl, how she can almost taste the disgust in her own mouth. "You are right, Momo. Vulgar isn't the term. Barbaric is more apt. Watching this, I simply cannot understand your obsession with heroics. I am relieved I talked you out of enrolling for the heroes course, and UA."

Trying hard not to be too ashamed, Momo argues, weakly: "I… do not think it is barbaric, Mother. I think it's… fascinating." Another beat of silence, to regain her courage. "And I think I could have done as well as the other students. Do you know that this year, not one, not two, but _three_ general studies students were able to-"

Mother's mouth twists bitterly. "Oh, really? So if your father and I had the poor judgment to _allow_ you to accept UA's Hero Course Scholarship, do you think you would have stood in the same stage as either of those… those _ruffians_ on the screen?"

She looks up. On the screen, a boy with an explosion quirk faces Endeavor's son at the final one-on-one battle. "I don't know mother, but I'm sure I would have done well enough to be in the one-on-one tournament..."

She laughs bitterly, making Momo wince. "Really." A look of disbelief. "I suppose the Todoroki boy is all right. If you want, Father and I can arrange for you two to meet under more… civilised circumstances."

She shakes her head immediately at that. She hasn't enjoyed any of the arrangements that her parents have made for her so far. Somehow she feels that if things were different, she and this Todoroki-san could be friends. But definitely not in _that_ context.

Mother takes note of her disagreement and says nothing more about Todoroki. But as to the other UA student: "But can you imagine you and that vulgar blonde boy getting along? Would you be able to trust a person like that with your life? Hero or not?"

Momo shifts her gaze to the television-the boy screams bloody murder at Endeavor's son to use his fire, using the worst words in the Japanese vocabulary that she knows, and then some.

She keeps silent.

Mother takes this as her cue to reach for the remote and switch the TV off. The room is thrust into heavy silence, one Momo uses to stare down at her hands until her mother lifts her face in her hands.

"Listen, darling," she says with a cloying smile. "I understand you, I really do. This desire of yours to help others and to dedicate your life to a life of service is surely a reflection of a noble heart…"

She feels a smile growing on her lips.

"... and a naiveté that comes with these… temporary teenage whims." Mother slaps her cheeks lightly and lets her go, as if to sober her up. She spends a few moments in stunned silence, simmering in her disbelief.

"Mother, it's not just a phase. I truly want to help people," Momo reasons, knowing full well that her arguments are null and invalid, because she isn't in UA's uniform, she's in Shiketsu's, with a General Studies ID around her neck.

"You'll understand when you get older," is all Mother says, as she always has. "Leave heroism and altruism for people who can afford to throw their lives away. Momo… you are much too important for that. Much too intelligent, beautiful, _valuable-_ "

The girl says nothing, allows her mother to ramble on about their perceived value, how Momo will go on to change the world and how it's other people who should serve, not the other way around. She reaches out for her tea and wills the words to go in one ear and out the other.

"... and truly, your father and I have big expectations for you," Mother finishes, looking right into her eyes. "If you were to inherit our corporation, Momo, and our ideals for a beautiful, industrial world, then in a way, you'd be helping more people than you can imagine."

She smiles politely and nods, because there's no other acceptable answer in this case.

Mother smiles at her good, obedient girl and nods. She places her science textbook on her daughter's lap and looks at her meaningfully and leaves. Things are as they should be.

Years later, All Might isn't getting any better, and villainy is at an all-time high. More and more people get hurt. Less and less highschoolers enroll for hero courses. And her parents get richer and richer and more and more unaffected. There's actual burning fervor in her chest, so strong it hurts.

You can't help what your heart wants.

She'll never be a pro-hero, but she'll still be someone who helps people. That's what she tells herself as she opens Shiketsu University's Website, looks through the accelerated Medicine courses, and fills out the application forms, behind Mother's back…

* * *

As life-changing as they are, Momo never expects to see those clips again for whatever reason, and especially not in these odd circumstances: exhausted and mildly confused on Shinsou Hitoshi's apartment floor. With Awase Yosetsu sprawled next to her, Midoriya Izuku calming himself down out on the balcony, and Monoma Neito eyeing everything with fox-like eyes, loaded with equal portions of interest and caution.

Shinsou is obviously the most reluctant one about the whole set-up, and not only because of Monoma's brief tantrum regarding their need to resolve other people's issues from more than a decade ago, on their rare date night of all nights. Still, the tired man tries his best for all of them. "You wanted to know how we knew each other. This is it."

The videos from Youtube are thirteen years old, each viewed more than five million times over that period. He showed them all he could about that sports festival-the first race, which Midoriya won without any use of quirks. The Cavalry battle, where they form the team with the highest valued bandanna-a young Kirishima Eijirou at the front, Midoriya and Shinsou at the back, and Katsuki above them, easily dodging and stealing all they could despite the hero course students going after them with all they've got. When they draw lots for the final tournament, how the quirkless Midoriya is forced to back out from the one-on-one battles. How easily it seems for Katsuki to overpower the rest of them, making it to the finals to fight to _almost win_ against a young Todoroki Shouto, who refuses to use his fire for whatever reason, until the last moment…

That year is memorable. Three General Studies students beating the hero course students, getting their valuable spots in the tournaments to show off their skills to the whole world. Strangely none of them being transferred to the hero course, despite the clamor from the hero community. The noise and outrage that followed.

It was a big deal for the other General Studies students not only in UA, but also Shiketsu High. And maybe the other schools too. Momo remembers the twinge of hope in her heart, how close she felt to the brash boy on television who showed everyone that there are people who can be heroes outside of the hero courses. That if a wild one like that has come so close, there might be a chance for someone like her who has nothing to step on but her pedestal.

 _Would you be able to trust a person like that with your life? Hero or not?_ Mother's voice sounds from the back of her head, with the same bitterness.

"So… Bakugou was that GS kid who fought Todoroki," comments Yosetsu, barely able to hide the awe in his voice. "I remember that, too. A lot of us in our high school seriously thought of shifting into a hero course after that. 'Course, after we heard that none of you made it in the end, a lot of us gave up on that."

"Yup. Well, not like UA didn't try to get that bastard to the hero course after that. There were other reasons probably, but Bakugou himself didn't want to change courses." Shinsou sighs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "You have _no idea_ how much I wanted to kick his ass back then."

Monoma makes a sound of interest. "Now that's odd. So he acted like a rabid animal in the competition not because he wants to be a hero, but just because he wanted to show off." His thin mouth curls into a sardonic smile. "That's… not very heroic, you have to admit."

"You're wrong."

They all look up cautiously as Midoriya comes in from outside. The chill of the night air tickles Momo's skin as the glass door slides open and shut. When he comes closer, she sees pale, tired skin and slightly reddened eyes. His breath is shaky as he falls next to her-she feels the cold, lonesome and real, emerging around his aura.

Still, the weakened green-haired man looks at Monoma with determination in his eyes. "Kacchan didn't do all he did because he didn't want to be a hero… even though it's what he wanted from the start, it's because he knew he couldn't be, and-"

"Midoriya," Shinsou says, voice cutting through his ramble like a warning.

Midoriya inhales, closes his eyes for some semblance of control. "It's… okay, Shinsou-kun. I won't."

They stare at him carefully, as carefully as one stares at a pile of bricks on the verge of collapse. Momo reaches out, touches him on the shoulder, for whatever good it does. She meets green eyes.

"It's okay. I'm okay," he manages, after a worrisome beat of silence. "I owe you guys a lot of apologies and explanations huh? I'm sorry," he says bashfully, giving an awkward laugh that's meant to reassure them, but obviously does the opposite for his cautious audience.

"You sure, dude?" Yosetsu says carefully. "I mean we're here 'cause we're worried about you and we can listen if you want to talk, but you really don't owe us anything, y'know?"

Yes, because the story between him and Katsuki doesn't seem like a short one, or a simple one. Even if he doesn't say a word, Momo has a good guess of the turmoil in the pit of his stomach, based on the anxious glimmer of his eyes-the pain, the fear. The guilt. She doesn't know _why_ there would be guilt there, but she's sure it's there like a rusty bullet wedged in his heart for the past decade.

"Thank you, Awase-kun," Midoriya says with a sniffle. He shifts his gaze at Momo then, opens his mouth slowly and hesitantly before he speaks. "You and Kacchan… I mean, I'm sorry if I'm wrong, but I just had that feeling earlier…"

The only one who dares to do anything else but to remain in awkward silence is Monoma, who appears both carefully cunning and disinterested when he breaks it after a moment. "Better not go there, Midoriya-kun. One awful sob story at a time."

That earns him a glare from Yosetsu. Momo isn't offended, though, because he's right.

Midoriya makes a sound of understanding, and doesn't ask any further questions. Instead, he tells her, "I feel like… there's lots of things you don't understand about Kacchan. And maybe among all of us here, you're the one who needs to know about what happened to him the most. And that's why..."

Another beat of silence. Midoriya inhales again, and it still comes out as a shaky breath.

"... that's why, I should apologize." Out of nowhere, he bows his head low, much to everyone's surprise.

"Why?" Momo asks, after a stunned silence. Her hand reaches out to touch him again in a show of reassurance.

"Because… it hurts too much." He doesn't immediately look up, making her wonder if he bowed his head to avoid meeting her eyes any more. When he does, he's struggling to keep his eyes dry again, so much so that Monoma stands up and leaves, presumably to find tissues. "I thought about it a lot, and… I'm not ready to tell you guys what happened. I thought I would be by this time-it's stupid, isn't it, it's been fourteen years, but I'm scared… scared that you guys will hate me, and-"

"Midoriya," Shinsou repeats quietly, more gently this time. "It's okay. Don't force it."

"Yeah. If you're not ready, you're not ready." Yosetsu says, although it's obvious that he's a little down for not being able to learn anything new.

He wipes his eyes against the back of his hand and looks meaningfully at Momo. "I'm… really _sorry,_ Yaoyorozu-san."

Something at the back of Momo's mind itches and spasms and bleeds as she wonders what could have happened to those two, for this amount of guilt and pain from memories that should be gathering dust to still hang over their heads and not heal properly for the past fourteen years. Still, she understands as much. It may be a story she needs to hear, but it isn't Midoriya's story to tell.

She nods at him quietly and stands up, much to the surprise of everyone else in the room. "It's all right, Midoriya-san. After all, Awase-san is correct. You don't owe us anything."

Yosetsu scrambles to his feet, intending to follow her out of the apartment, but she holds a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

Everyone else looks at her face in awe, surprised maybe at how different it may have appeared then. She doesn't know. She doesn't feel that different. Just… oddly empty, maybe, because despite seeing all those videos of their childhood and listening to Shinsou's drawl and Midoriya's apologies, at the end of the day… she _still_ doesn't know Katsuki.

Not in the way that she needs to, at least. And the answers will never be found here.

She thanks everyone with a deep bow, and leaves Shinsou's small apartment. The only sound she hears as she leaves is a confused inhale, and the curious mewl of the old tabby cat who has been lounging about the entryway.

Later, she finds herself staring at the ceiling of her condominium unit. But instead of the unbearable jumble of irrational thoughts that plagued her for the days past, she returns to the most rational ones of them, and attempts to form a solid, concrete answer:

What can she do for Bakugou Katsuki?

* * *

The days go on as they ought to, divided into neat eight-hour segments when he needs to drink his meds. Irritatingly quiet on the outside, a chaotic mess inside.

He still isn't sleeping well. Those anger issues aren't going anywhere, and are louder when he's by himself and more fucked up than usual. If he allowed himself to drink or to fuck himself up further with drugs, he supposes that he'd always be on the verge of shutting down his brain and the rest of his body. Still, he doesn't have enough of a will to do even _that,_ and instead struggles with himself and his endless cycle of self-blame until it's 5 AM and it's time to run again.

Another morning, not that different from any other morning. Nothing but empty streets and diminishing darkness and cold air for company. Until, of course, the sun rises, and they inevitably run into each other again.

It's not everyday that it happens, but when it does, he finds himself crossing paths with Yaoyorozu Momo. And the past few mornings, she regards him coldly, dark eyes sharp and focused. As she ought to, he supposes. If he were in her shoes, apart from giving in to the urge of kicking his ass, he won't even give a fuck.

But she does anyway-give a fuck, that is-and it's baffling. Whether she's alone, or with someone else, like that skull guy, that chick with big hands. That shitty glasses guy who went to UA too, back in the day. That fucker with the headband, and he _swears_ he could have beaten his head in if he didn't have to act so fuckin' apathetic. (Good thing it was just that one fuckin' time, because that guy seems to be holding himself back too).

She'd say "good morning," and he'd grumble it back. They'd run for a few quiet meters in awkward silence, and without missing a beat, she'd declare with that uncharacteristic _strong_ voice of hers:

"Let's race, Bakugou-san."

He doesn't know why he lets her goad him into it. Maybe it's as simple as him feeling bored, or maybe because having something else to focus on other than his self-hate actually might be doing him good. Still, he hates that it's as simple as insinuating that he's too afraid to lose, for her (or anyone else, for that matter), to get him to indulge her and her weird-ass whims.

The race tracks are different each time-sometimes it's around the quiet, sleeping neighborhood, or the almost empty park, or the empty shopping mall parking lots. The conditions are always the same, though: whoever loses has to do whatever the winner wants.

And it's fucking stupid as shit because by all accounts, Katsuki should win, dammit. He's stronger and faster and angrier than anyone else no matter how early in the day it is, meaning he deserves the shallow victories, as meaningless as they may be. After his first loss that fateful morning, he figured that there's no way he'd lose this time because he knows how to use his quirk to fly from point A to point B.

But to his surprise, Momo has learned to play _dirty_. There could be a sidestreet or some shortcut that Katsuki didn't know about, so that she'd be at the finish line with a smug smile on her face as he explodes and curses his way to her. There could be officers nearby who'd catch anyone using their quirks. (Momo's is subtle, and Katsuki's and the other extras' is not, and it's obvious that they'd arrest an exploding man first before they do a girl on a hoverboard.) One time, she made and threw weights- _fuckin' 10 kg weights!-_ at him and Glasses, who both catch them with surprised yelps and just barely manage not fuckin' _die_ from almost being hit on the head.

Needless to say, despite all the protests of her 'unsportsmanlike-conduct', as Glasses so often berates her, Yaoyorozu Momo is the undisputed, slightly thinner victor for the past consecutive mornings. And because of that, she'd always have free breakfast care of her bitchass friends if they're there, and she'd corner him, staring him down with those searing hot sharp raven eyes of hers.

Everytime she asks, she pauses and takes a deep breath and he feels like dying a little.

"Where did you grow up?"

"What did you take for pre-med? Which university?"

"What are your parents' names? Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"Where did you learn how to cook?"

Katsuki, predictably sore from all the losing he does (because honestly, each time he does she's the one who looks like she's about to die from exhaustion, so how the fuck does she keep winning?!), gives her clipped answers through grit teeth: Shizuoka. Biology. UA Medical University. The old hag is Mitsuki, and the old man's Masaru. I'm a fuckin' only child, do I look like I could be anythin' else.

I just learned, it's not that hard.

She nods each time, with a cold and clinical gaze in those raven eyes like she's interviewing a patient before she puts them to sleep and cuts them open. Difference being, she gives clipped answers of her own, as if he asks her the same inane questions too: I grew up in Nagoya. I took an accelerated course in medicine in Shiketsu University. My parents are named Ichiro and Sara. I don't have any siblings either.

And yes, cooking is hard. I can't cook anything.

Katsuki smirks at that, but keeps his rude comments to himself. They aren't that rude, but they aren't close enough that he can poke fun at her anymore. Even though they're playing this stupid twenty questions shit at the risk of Momo's life.

Instead, he says, "You can learn a lot just from watching other people fuck around. That's what I did. My old man may be lame, but he knows his shit when it comes to the kitchen."

Not exactly the most earth-shattering of discoveries about him, but it makes Momo widen her eyes and step back a little. "Oh. So you learned from Masaru-san," she says, after a stunned silence.

Ah. He didn't need to say that, did he? He… didn't want to just volunteer free info about him, not now that Momo wants to work her ass to the bone for each tidbit and at this point he just wants to see how far she's willing to go.

He plays it off like it's nothing, though, and shrugs. "Yeah, what about it?"

A small, pretty smile on her lips, as she says: "You two must be close."

His mouth goes _tch_ as she continues to look amused. He looks away, controls the twitch of his stupid hands wanting more. So it _is_ possible to miss someone, even though they're standing next to you.

Stupid as fuck. He pushes those sappy thoughts to the back of his mind. As always, she takes the next moment of silence to take her leave politely, with nothing but a wave of her hand and the swish of her ponytail that he watches until it disappears in the distance.

After every encounter, he gives in to an aggravated sigh, wonders why he bothers, and why the weight feels less… heavy, each time. He then goes home as the sun rises behind him.

* * *

In the relative, but annoying-as-fuck quiet that comes after each encounter, Katsuki finds himself thinking of Momo even more than before, and under an entirely different light. Never mind that he was already thinking of her more than what he thought was humanly possible, everyday, since the day he caught her gaping at him like a fish outside of his cafe.

Besides her raven eyes and pale skin glowing with the early morning sun, her words and glare and that challenging upturn of her mouth, one that he's never seen before, pushes into his thoughts without his consent. He's going insane figuring out what the hell she's thinking. She really isn't allowed to smile like that in front of him again, but she does almost every fuckin morning. He can't say that he's sick of it, but it can't be that healthy if his mind keeps attempting to whir itself out of his head every time.

Despite the intrusive thoughts, Katsuki slogs through the days, goes through the same angry motions-goes to the cafe, opens it up. Says his daily expletives to Ears, and then Pikachu when the blonde arrives five minutes late than he should have. Fills out order forms and does accounting shit and makes coffee and pasta and tries not to glare too much at all the dead-inside customers coming and going, gaping at the displays in interest. He is surprised that he's able to do it at all, given how intrusive his thoughts have been.

"Baku-boss. Something happen?" asks Jirou after the fourth or fifth encounter. Discerning triangle eyes are on him as she makes a cappuccino with practiced hands, barely needing to look at what she's doing.

He doesn't answer, just glares at her like her nosy ass deserves.

Jirou gives him a look that's disinterested enough to reassure him that yes, she understands that it's none of her business. But the way those ear-jack things are floating in the air tells him otherwise. "Just wondering. You're a lot less angry today. But kinda fucked-up in a different way. Kinda hard to explain."

It's not that fuckin' hard to explain. He's always fuckin' angry and always kinda fucked-up. Just ask his so-called friends, except that shitty fuckin' ass Deku-no scratch that, that stupid green perm-head isn't a friend anymore, if Katsuki, even in his years of tolerating him through high school and college and med school and residency, ever considered him as one. (And that's a big if.)

Being distracted by a certain neurosurgeon's stupid stunts is entirely different. But Fuckin' Ears doesn't need to know that. He goes about arranging the pastries on display as angrily as he can, gives her a glare only threatening enough to stop any other stupid insinuations from forming in her mouth.

That forced, bored look on her face not leaving, she goes back to work. Katsuki doesn't miss the little knowing smirk ghosting over her mouth though. Like she's reading his mind and sees nothing but raven hair and that goddamned smirk and the gajillion anger management issues shoved to the sidelines, suddenly and jarringly muted.

If she did, she doesn't say anything about it. "Meds," is the only thing she says to him on that shift, dumping a tablet into his palm, matching his glare with one of her own. God, she and everyone else are too much like the fuckin' old hag when it comes to his medicines. Fuckin' annoying.

He growls, but obliges more easily than he has the past few days. Jirou is mildly surprised, but takes this development with a small, relieved raise of the eyebrows.

The days go on.

* * *

It's a quiet and early Sunday morning when Momo blearily opens her eyes and sees the light shimmering through the trees above her, and feels grass and soil under her fingernails and her bareback. Her head throbs. Her arm is just strong enough to reach out to hold on to it.

"The fuck, Momo. You wanna die, or something?"

The familiar gruff comes from a warm source next to her. She turns her head slowly and looks up to meet burning red eyes, quietly waiting for her to come to.

When she speaks, her voice is wobbly and she knows she's pushed herself to the limits of a quirk that she doesn't challenge enough. "What happened?"

"You fuckin' passed out, is what. After tryin' to make a fuckin' mountain bike out of your skinny ass. Jesus, and I thought I was reckless."

He's leaning against the tree, one arm resting on a flexed knee, bare skin steaming under the shade. His body radiates warmth and sweetness and musk-a sudden but not unwelcome assault on Momo's just-awakening senses, one that makes her struggle with her memories of a few moments ago.

"Did I win?"

He snorts. "'Course not. If you think you can, with that piece of shit you made over there, I'd like to see you try."

He gestures to the monstrosity, which is only half a mountain bike. The handlebars and the front wheel came out fine, but the rest of it is soft and rapidly dissipating, made of raw fat dripping on the pavement. Momo winces.

"All right," she concedes, rolling over to her side to try to face him. She can't lift her head, though, and when she speaks it's facing the soft grass. "You win this time."

"This fuckin' chick almost dies and talks as if she just let me win. The hell." He scowls, but a wheezy chuckle escapes from him. "You really are somethin' else, Momo."

"Mm." The sunlight hits her eyes. She shifts her head into the shade, closer to his side, tries to form a coherent or rational thought. She blankly thinks of _why_ she did this, why she thought it was a good idea to challenge him over and over, just for the crumbs of his true identity to be given to her out of his own accord. How she came to the conclusion that all Katsuki will respond to is a good fight. The lengths she has to go through, to prove that she's strong and he's strong and that she wants to know him beyond his wounds and weaknesses and how she wants him to know her beyond the pathetic side she's shown so far.

She can't, though. Not when again, she's shown her pathetic side to him. Still, she's too weak to feel ashamed. All she wants now is to sleep next to his warmth. She's dizzy. It's been so long since she had a warm morning like this...

She hears him sigh above her head. One of those searing hot hands make its way to her cheek, slapping it awake. "You need to get up and go home and eat something. Or else you'll actually die."

He's right, because the weakness and dizziness in her body might be from the beginnings of hypoglycemia and dehydration from overusing her quirk, but she doesn't move. Her eyes don't want to stay open, and all she manages is a whine.

"Fuckin' hell. Ain't a request, doc. It's an order. Since you lost." She feels his absence from her side when she stands up, and then the ground's absence as she feels herself lifted to her feet.

Strong, solid arms go above her and round her shoulder as he dresses her in his discarded hoodie. The shift in position and the sudden proximity wakes her up enough to stand with some support. She looks at his side, and he looks back, one eyebrow raised and mouth in a scowl, quietly asking her if she's ready.

She nods, and together they shuffle out of the kind shade of the tree, out of the park, and back into the empty city streets.

The walk to her condominium unit usually takes ten minutes, but Momo feels the moments stretch and shrink and dwindle, so that she isn't sure if they're too long or too short. It's been so long since she feels his touch on her, so close, too close, and she isn't sure if it's the right that she feels it now, when she feels that she hasn't done enough, known enough.

Still, her cheeks redden and her chest trembles and her heart beats in anticipation. She curses her body for responding to his proximity so shamelessly.

Eventually, they make it to her unit. Katsuki brings her across the threshold of her own home without hesitation, carefully lets her collapse onto the couch. He gives her a bottle of juice, which she quietly accepts. She's grateful for the comfort and softness, but immediately wanting of warmth as he leaves her to disappear in the kitchen.

She wonders if it's improper to remain so quiet to not say a word since their departure from the park. The whole situation took a turn that she hasn't prepared for. So she shyly listens to the sounds he makes-the whoosh of the flame of her unused stove, cracking eggshells, the crackle and pop of oil on the pan.

He works fast. In minutes, he comes back with a meal that's simpler than the ones he'd made for her before, but no less appetizing-bacon, eggs, and leftover rice fried in garlic, presented neatly in a Hermes bowl with a pair of chopsticks.

"Eat," he says, in that demanding tone she hasn't heard for a long while, making something in her chest flutter. She shakily and carefully takes the bowl and mumbles her thanks.

"What about you?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Your kitchen's fuckin' empty, Momo. Even if I wanted to eat, ain't much I can do with a half-eaten croissant and instant noodles. Fuckin' nasty stuff. I thought you of all people would be above eatin' that shit."

She bought those noodles from Don Quixote one evening when she felt especially suffocated. It was more of an experiment than anything. She doesn't have the strength to explain those trivial things to him, though, and focuses on eating her food instead.

As expected, breakfast is lovely. The bacon is crispy, but not burnt. The eggs are fried perfectly. She didn't expect that leftover rice in garlic would taste so appetizing, with unexpected crystals of rock salt in the furikake making her want to eat more and more. The words form at the tip of her tongue as she chews.

But as much as she wants to gush about his food, like she does with confidence before, the overwhelming shyness prevails. "This is very good, Katsuki. Thank you," she says, as she is halfway done.

"'Course it is," he grumbles, as it always does. But today the usual pride in his voice is markedly absent.

"Of course," she repeats, with a quiet smile.

She continues picking at the rice grain by grain, listening to the sound of birds and traffic outside. Sunshine leaks through the windows, casting everything in its too-bright warmth. Dust dances and settles in between the loaded silence, as he watches her in an oddly loaded silence.

And then, as she places a mangled strip of eggwhite in her mouth: "King Explosion Murder."

She freezes mid-chew and stares at him with more bafflement than anything else. He has his arms crossed in front of him, shoulders leaning forward, red eyes on her and nothing else, pressuring her to understand.

She gives him a look that tells him plainly that she doesn't, and it's odd of him to say gibberish out of nowhere when he's usually so blunt and direct to the point. This amuses him greatly, but he continues: "You asked before. That would have been my hero name, if I had gone pro. I thought of it when I was in middle school."

She blinks and swallows her food hastily. Before she can go _oh,_ he keeps on talking.

"I was going to be the first one from our middle school to get into UA Heroics. I had the quirk, the money, the paperworks, the glowing recommendations, everything." He exhales, as if he just held his breath pulling a splinter from his side. "I… wanted to be better than All Might. Do you remember him?"

"Everyone does," Momo answers softly. It would be hard to forget a hero, no… a man like him. All the sacrifices he made, up until that day when…

Katsuki nods, and this time the look in his eyes is different. His eyebrows crease, his hands shake, his breaths become a little unsteady.

The silence that follows stretches for far too long, and Momo feels the need to place the bowl down and to come closer to him. She embraces him, because he lets her. And she suspect he lets her so that she won't be able to see his face, as he struggles to continue.

"It was me," he says, when his strong shoulders shake precariously, and she starts stroking his back. "On that day, when that fucking monster attacked, I died, and then he…"

She closes her eyes and remembers that story: All Might, the then-symbol of peace, saves a child from a villain with a quirk that makes his flesh turn to parasitic sludge, by using his limited strength reserves and then letting himself be the villain's host, defeating it from the inside out. The unnamed child, who gave in from the prolonged asphyxiation that came with the delayed rescue, had to be given CPR by his friend before he was revived.

Along with All Might, they were sent to a nearby hospital and treated aggressively. But modern medicine and limited manpower can only do so much. The child recovered, although had permanent damage. The same cannot be said for the Symbol of Peace, who has regressed to a weakened skeleton, only having the strength to call out to his successor before he succumbed to a coma that lasted for years…

The harrowing incident shook the country. Many pro-heroes realized that the danger they're facing is bigger than they've ever imagined, and many resigned. So did a lot of kids in the hero courses. Years after, the number of hopeful children in hero courses dwindled, and only revived recently with the rise of Endeavor.

Is this the burden that he's been carrying all along? Momo had hoped that everything would make sense for her one day, but she never imagined that the truth would be so heavy and painful to hear. She immediately understands why he's been so afraid, all this time: just hearing this made Momo's entire soul heavy. She's sure that he doesn't want that burden on anyone else.

But somehow… here he is, deciding that maybe… maybe, she can handle the truth. Not because he wants her pity. Not because he pities her. But because things are what they are, and maybe it's the right time and place to admit these uncomfortable truths to themselves.

So Momo accepts his words. Accepts him-the angry boy on TV, the complicated man in her arms. She thinks she always had, in a way.

"It's all right. I'm here," she whispers when Katsuki is unable to say another word.

* * *

On another morning, no different from any other morning, Momo crosses paths with Katsuki again.

She's alone. As is he, but it's pointless to say so because he always runs alone. It's been a week since they last saw each other. It may have been entirely an accident that they've waited that long to see each other's faces again. She finds it a relief, then, that his carries the same mild irritation that it always has.

She regards him quietly with a nod and a polite smile, and continues her jog. He falls in next to her quite naturally, the thudding of his feet going along with her rhythm, the heavy sound of it echoing lightly along the dim streets.

Three minutes of this comfortable silence pass before she hears his gruff voice beside her: "Race me."

She turns to him curiously. In between rapid breaths, she asks, "The same as usual?"

"No." He turns to the direction of a main boulevard, three kilometers up an incline in a straight line. Security cameras and other early morning joggers pollute the side, as do the sparse early morning traffic. "No quirks, no tricks. Just you and me and the street."

She isn't going to win this because there's no way to outsmart him under such conditions. Still, she might as well try.

They start the race, and as expected Katsuki becomes a blonde-and-black blur, zooming forward like a stray bullet. Momo runs as fast as she can, fast enough that her chest and her heart feels like exploding and all her muscles are cursing her for this exercise in futility.

When she sees the end of the road, she sees him slow down to a half-jog, turning around to finally face her with a victorious grin on her face.

She feels like fainting herself, but she manages to run to him and return his smile, in between gasps for air. "Congratulations, Katsuki. You finally won."

"Fuck yeah I won, Princess. Time to pay up," he replies. It's unfair that he doesn't appear as exhausted as she feels. But she supposes, after all the hard work she put him through for the past week or so, he's earned this one.

"All right," she says, willing her heart and breathing to slow down. Even though it's really hard to do so, given the way he's stepping into her space, big and heavy and fierce with all his heat emanating off his skin. He doesn't touch her, but she feels the steam and the burn from where she stands.

He hasn't been this close in a while. She'd almost forgotten how it feels to have those eyes so close to hers, how she has to fight the urge to relinquish her control and to give in to whatever he desires.

She hates how it's her body that remembers first, though. Goosebumps rise and shivers go up and down her spine when he reaches out and lets his hand hover over shoulder, down her collar bone, along the side of her neck, before settling on her chin. She has to close her eyes, and barely keeps herself from shuddering when she feels his thumb rub against the suddenly sensitive skin there, making it tingle with nitroglycerin.

"Momo… stop this shit," he murmurs. His breath is warm against her ear when he leans forward and continues. "I'm sorry for fucking up. For everything. You don't have to do this anymore. Whatever you want to know, I..."

He's never sounded so tender before. There's really no other appropriate response to his apology, but to accept it.

Momo opens her eyes, and smiles. Wordlessly, she takes his hand into hers and puts it in between them, fingers entwining easily and naturally. She nods.

He smiles at her, and nods back.

After that, they walk the familiar streets of Hosu, hand-in-hand, quiet and comfortable and calm. The sun has just begun to rise behind the sleepy buildings of a Sunday morning when they reach Momo's condominium. _So this is where we say goodbye_ , she wants to say, when she turns from her open door to face him.

But she doesn't get a chance to get a word out. Her breath stops when she feels his lips on hers and his burning grip on her arms.

He isn't forceful at all with this kiss, and that surprises her more than the action itself. Momo doesn't think that he's capable of gentle movements like this. But his grip on her borders between patience and impatience, of control and pure impulse.

It lasts for a few seconds, but when he pulls back and makes her aware of the growing space between them, she feels that it's both a moment too long and short.

"Katsuki," she whispers.

He stares at her as if he's surprised of what he did, too. But he clearly doesn't regret it, not by the upturn of his mouth. "Been a while," is all he says, as he steps back.

She doesn't let him.

Gripping her hands in the front of his shirt, she pulls him in for another kiss, a hungry and more desperate one, one that tells him clearly just how long 'a while' has truly been without him. And as he returns it with the same fervor, he finds himself out of the hallway and past the threshold of her home.

He closes and locks the door behind them.

* * *

 **AN:**

First of all! I'm sorry that this is late! I redid so many scenes in this chapter because nothing sounded okay! I keep saying that but the struggle is very real in this chapter-I had to debate on how to reveal Katsuki's past and all the pain that comes with it, without Momo getting stuck in a place where she will feel nothing for him but pity. And also Izuku. Gah I might have been able to do better but if I allowed myself to get stuck any further I might not be able to finish this chapter at all so whatevs.

So! At least the hard part is done! Maybe we can get back to the fluffs? Idk because there's, um, one last messed up thing due to happen though and I hope you stick around for that.

Thank you very much for all the kind words and comments and kudos and reblogs and reviews so far. They just really, really, really keep me going! I hope the wait isn't too frustrating T_T See you in the next update!


	8. Green Curry

**Ruby Red and Caramel**

Chapter 8: Green Curry

 _AN: Another M-rated chapter;; It's a little more explicit than the last._

 _The scenes at the end feature some scenes with explosions. Please be warned, especially if such scenes are triggering for you._

* * *

 _"One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight-"_

It's been a while since Katsuki clearly knows whether he's truly awake, or in a frighteningly vivid dream.

At times, he opens his eyes and sees the sky from the slick ground of that alley in Musutafu. Sometimes there's fire and screaming, other times there's the wail of sirens and the blinking red and blue lights bouncing off the walls. There's always one or more person crying over him, begging him to wake up.

"- _nine-eleven-twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen-Kacchan, please, wake up, I'm here, okay, I'm here-"_

It's always that shitty fuckin' Deku. Scrawny, nerdy, weak, ridiculously dressed an oversized gakuran. Weak baby hands pressing down his sternum, high-pitched voice counting to thirty before he blows air into Katsuki's mouth in between sobs. He's the most useless person in that entire alleyway, yet he's the only one who sees Katsuki, the only one who realizes that his heart's not fucking beating anymore and his lungs are completely empty.

All Might, too… he doesn't know what happened, but All Might was big one moment, and then he wasn't. Sludge drips from his mouth, along with blood and vomit. It makes Katsuki sick, but not as sick as seeing the tall man fall like a mannequin on the dirty ground.

That shitty fuckin' nerd cries, but keeps his hands on Katsuki's chest. Doesn't give himself time to wipe his tears or his sweat. He bends down, and Katsuki doesn't feel his mouth on him as he watches the scene from a weird spot above his body.

 _"-sixteen-seventeen-eighteen-nineteen-twenty-"_

Dreams are weird like that.

The scene dies out, and Katsuki opens his eyes again-he's in the hospital, he doesn't remember which one. His head hurts. There's a line through his hand. Something beeps beside him, and it's irritating.

He looks for the old hag, but she isn't there. Dad's snoring away on the couch, looking older than he should be. He looks too tired, and Katsuki's voice is too weak, so he doesn't call him.

Something on his bed stirs, something that irritatingly looks too much like broccoli. The nerd looks up with green-and-red eyes glimmering in the darkness. "Kacchan," he says, gripping the sheets tightly. Fuckin' bastard's crying again, much to his annoyance, but Katsuki's body in this dream is so heavy, and his hand doesn't lift or make explosions.

He feels his mouth moving without his consent. "Deku. They told me I can't be a hero anymore."

He doesn't understand-he's so angry and hurt and weak and full of hate, but his eyes are dry and his mouth is flaccid and all his voice can manage is a whisper. The shit nerd understands him though, and cries some more.

"I'm so sorry, Kacchan," he blubbers out like a baby. Like it's his fault somehow. Katsuki thinks he's just being self-centered. There's no way in hell that any of this is this asshole's fault. As if this weak fuckin' nerd can destroy his life.

He hates that he keeps saying sorry. Hates those simpering eyes, hates the sadness, hates the pity. He shuts it all out, wills it to darkness and quiet and emptiness so that there's nothing else.

The scene shifts, he wakes up. He's in the hospital he doesn't remember which one his head hurts there's a line through his hand-something beeps beside, no, behind him-he looks for the old hag, but she isn't there-dad isn't on the couch but he still looks old and tired-Katsuki's voice is too weak, so he doesn't call him-

He sees himself in his mind's eye, convulsing next to the code cart. Three whole days of work, three days of not taking his medicine or sleeping or even eating anything without caffeine in it. He had a fever at one point, he was in the ER and that shitty nerd was tailing him, telling him to sit down, to go home.

He doesn't listen.

 _"Twentyone-twentytwo-twentythree-twentyfour-twentyfive-"_

His vision turns black for a week, maybe.

"I'm so sorry, Kacchan," that fuckin' Deku says again. He wants to punch him, wants to knock those stupid glasses on his face. He's wearing the white coat he got on the same day that Katsuki did years ago. It looks wrong on him and his shitty weak tear-stained face.

He remembers the nerd's stupid pledge to follow Katsuki wherever he goes, to make sure that he won't be helpless again. And yet here he is again, drugs in his veins, a tube through his mouth, his mind lost in the matrix-

 _"Twentysix-twentyseven-twentyeight-"_

He's breathing by himself now, at least. Heart remembers to beat. Brain remembers to think, but barely. Katsuki's mind struggles against the onslaught of reality.

Deku's standing next to him, broken down and crying like a child whose pet is dying. Katsuki fuckin' hates it. All he does is cry and say sorry, sorry, sorry, like all of this is his fault. Like somehow the sludge villain that put All Might to sleep was his fault. Katsuki doesn't understand what the fuck he babbles about when he cries-he's stopped listening a long, long while ago.

 _"Twenty nine-thirty-"_

* * *

The scene shifts. He wakes up.

A sun ray streams through a window that isn't his and illuminates dark hair, silky skin, most of her body snuggling under soft, peach sheets. Eyes roll behind her eyelids as she dreams, like planets lazily turning in their orbits. Quiet breaths escape between slightly parted lips, the ones he greedily claimed for himself mere hours before.

Yaoyorozu Momo is a vision whatever she's wearing or not wearing, but the sight of her so peaceful with her hair down should be a religion in itself. Katsuki being its founder, its high priest, its sole fuckin' worshipper and he'll fight anyone who would say otherwise.

He allows the dream or the blackness or whatever it was that just passed to fade into nothingness, because there's nothing else in his world at this moment but Momo. He makes himself aware of the feel of her waist under his palm. His thumbs rub semi-consciously over her skin, underneath the blanket. She stirs upon contact.

Eyes flutter open, focus on his. A smile forms on her lips. "Katsuki."

"Hey." His face feels stupid. He doesn't think his mouth or his brows have done whatever they're doing now-lazily returning her blissed-out smile.

She stretches her arms and those long, creamy legs that kick out from under the sheets. Katsuki can look at them all day, they stretch from here to there to eternity. "So how long have you been staring angrily at me in my sleep?"

"Mhm. Far too long, Princess." He pulls them closer together. She giggles breathily as their bodies press together, and he feels all her curves and softness all over him once more. "You said you missed me, but here you are snoozin' on me. What gives, haa?"

She giggles again, presses those soft lips on his, curls her arms around his neck. Yes, this feels just right. The world makes more sense when she's close like this, when she kisses him like this, when he's warm in her embrace. "I'm sorry, I've only spent the past few weeks chasing you in the early morning and working my backside off the rest of the time."

He grumbles against her mouth. "You didn't… have to push your skinny ass _that hard..._ "

Jesus, is he such a fuckin' dumbass. He allowed all that anger and that solitude and that shitty pride from ages ago to feed into his fears and push everyone away. He almost pushed _her_ away, this girl with legs longer than his lifespan and tits bigger than his patience and heart and kindness more infinite than his shitty ass universe.

And look at her, after all the shit he put her through. Staring at him with those intoxicating onyx eyes, that devilish smirk on her mouth and _fuck_ who the hell taught her to smile like that anyway, she could kill a man with that look. "Mm? That so?"

He's underneath her the next moment, kissing him sweetly and deeply, pushing his shoulders down to the mattress and straddling his hips, trapping him. He makes a noise of surprise against her mouth but she doesn't back down. Instead she rolls hips against his.

That look of satisfaction, when he groans. _Fuuuuuuck-_

"Katsuki, _dearest Katsuki,_ " she says, in a mindblowingly husky voice right at his right ear, "I don't want you running away from me again…"

He inhales sharply when he feels teeth and tongue at the base of his neck. She releases her mouth with a sound and cheerfully looks at the mark she has made. Katsuki just looks up at her in awe.

"... but if you do, I guess I'll just have to chase after you again, won't I?"

Oh shit, the feel of her down there, warm and wet and inviting, arouses him instantly. He curses under his breath at the sensation, and again when he realizes that she notices.

Like hell he'd let this dangerous woman take the wheel. He smirks, clamps strong hands on her waist. "What's with that hot look, Princess? Ya think you can make a bastard like me behave?"

He leans forward, takes one of those amazing breasts in his mouth. He brings one hand up to pay attention to the other, makes a sound of surprise against her flesh when hers comes right after it, guiding his fingers over and around her nipple.

"Y-yes," she breathes. Her body starts to move, clothed sensitive spots rubbing against his. Katsuki likes the feel of her silk underwear against him, but he wonders when she shimmied into them after their first round. "Y… you've been terrible, Katsuki. Absolutely- _hah!-_ abysmal-"

He makes a gruff sound, lets her skin go between his teeth to smile smugly against her skin. "You're sayin' all that as if ya wanna punish me." Another big bite to her shoulder, making a sound that sounds like a cry in the beginning and a whine at the end escape from her, when he follows it up with a finger pressed to her mound. "As if I'll let ya."

She pouts at him, pushes his shoulders down again and makes his head crash against the pillows. "You aren't sorry at all, are you?"

He is, he's been a big dumbass. But watching her crawl backwards over him, stopping until she's staring cross-eyed at his erection. Shit, he should burn that image in his head, he'd have something to come back to when he's alone.

"I should keep my eyes on you, Katsuki," she says, situating her mouth next to him.

"Good. I like 'em on me."

"Good." That devilish smile again, and one or two teasing licks that fires up and electrifies all the nerves in his body. His mind tries its hardest to take in all the sensations, but shuts down immediately when she takes him into her mouth.

 _Fuck._

The sight of her, the feel of her. Lips and mouth full, small sounds escaping from her and vibrating through the rest of his body. It feels warm, crowded. Her hands, her hair, her eyes... _shit._ Good, so good. Fuck. His brain can only say so much.

She's amazing all throughout, but it's her unwavering gaze that makes him teeter on the edge. Shit, she wasn't kidding when she says she'll keep her eyes on him. Everything he feels magnifies a hundred fold when she looks at him like that. He feels like he's going crazy.

"Momo, _fuck,_ if you keep doing that-" He's going to come if she keeps going like this. When he manages to blurt that out though, it only seems to egg her on even more, and she hollows out her cheeks even more.

No, that won't do. He doesn't want to unravel by himself. It takes a lot out of him, but he manages to pull her off him, and pull her down to kiss her swollen lips hard. "Momo, please," he moans against her mouth.

She hums against his mouth. "What do you want, Katsuki?"

She grips his length, smiles deviously when he makes another hungry sound. He knows he can push her down and take her anytime he wants, but her face when she's in control like this, surprisingly makes him weak and boneless. "You. I want you- _fuck-"_

She's making a lot of marks on him today. Getting cheeky and greedy and he loves it. "You're being awfully vague, dear," she purrs, licking the sore spot on his neck slowly. "It doesn't sound like you at all. What do you want?" she repeats, letting her long fingernails graze against the skin of his chest.

He looks at her with half-lidded eyes. "I want you to ride my dick until my brains come outta my ears, what the fuck else? Holy sh-"

He doesn't even notice her slipping a condom over his hardness. The next thing he knows, she's already guiding him to her entrance, letting him sink into her agonizingly slow. He feels himself surrounded by her tight heat, steadily, steadily, the sensation making his eyes roll back. His hands grip onto her thighs for dear life.

"Katsuki," she slurs, when he's completely inside her. "Be a good boy and keep still. I'll do the moving this time."

He doesn't know what has gotten into this woman so suddenly, but he supposes he should be thankful because it's so fuckin' hot. "Tch. You're pretty bossy today, aintcha Princess?"

She hums coyly, and not giving him a moment to breathe, starts bouncing.

"Oh fuck," Katsuki grits out eloquently. He watches Momo fuck herself on his cock, fast and sudden and so, so good. He feels her walls all around, sucking him in, drenching him in wetness. The sound they make is more obscene than the words that come flying out his mouth beyond his control.

"Momo, holy shit, this feels good, too good-" And as good as it feels, it's taking a lot of his self-control to do as she says and not move, and he loses control one or two times, lets his hips snap up when she goes down. She bites her lip to stifle a cry, but at the same time pushes him down on the shoulders, giving him a stern look through flushed cheeks and blown pupils.

"I told you- _hnn_ -to be good," she says, as she keeps those godsent hips in motion, teasingly wiggling about and making his groin and his mind want to explode. "I can stop anytime I want to… Make you beg for- _ahh_ "

He doesn't think she can, but he lets her have it anyway. He focuses instead on keeping his hands on her waist, lets her bounce and writhe and rut however she likes, tightening his grip on her so hard she hisses in pleasure and he has to focus on not burning her skin with his sweat.

She finds the most pleasurable angle inside her soon enough, and her movements become faster, more desperate, more erratic. Her breathing is rapid, her cries higher and higher in pitch. "Katsuki, I'm so close, I'm so close-"

He is too, but fuck him if he comes first. He ignores her very stern orders at the last moment by leaning forward and snapping his hips upward and sucking on her breasts as if his life depends on it.

It's cute how she tries to tell him off then, but only manages to moan in pleasure and to grip and claw his scalp and his back like a wild animal. Soon he feels her walls clench around him rhythmically, and it's all it takes for him to follow her with a prolonged groan of his own.

"Holy fuck," he whispers in astonishment.

"Y… yes," says Momo, kissing him on the mouth through gasps of air. He pulls out of her, and she lets herself collapse on top of him. His arms go around her body automatically. "Holy fuck, Katsuki..."

"Oi, since when have you learned to talk like a fuckin' delinquent, princess? Bad girl." He didn't think it would, but curse words sound good coming from her. He chuckles roughly and slaps her on the ass. She gasps, affronted.

"You're horrible," she says with a playful glare. "You truly are a dumbass, like everyone says."

"And who's the bigger dumbass for literally fucking with me, haa?"

She pouts, but cuddles into him closer, sighing along with him as their bodies entwine quite naturally in the light and warmth. "Good point, but I refuse to acknowledge it."

He feels her muscles relax on top of his, feels her breathing slow down. The entire thing just feels so right, so comfortable. The scent of her hair, the softness of her skin, her weight, her shape, her lights and shadows, all in contact with him, making odd feelings arise in his chest that he can't put a name on. Like, maybe, he found something made just for him. As shitty and sappy as it sounds.

He lets his eyes close, lets himself inhale the scent of her. Life's a little less fucked up today, and he's grateful.

* * *

Momo decides that all her Sundays off from now on should be spent like this, next to Katsuki.

Eventually, all the activities they did in bed catches up to Momo. Katsuki spends some time teasing her for the grumble in her bottomless-pit-of-a-stomach, or so he says. He'd cook for her if he could, he says, but Momo's kitchen is still miserably devoid of anything edible for his palate.

The pair eventually decide to go to Dagobah Ward for a meal. Momo offers because one of her favorite Southeast Asian restaurants is there, and Katsuki agrees to do so because he's eager to prove that he can do better than them. She initially plans on driving, but he refuses and instead dares her to take the train like 'the rest of the commoners'.

She pouts, because she's sure that a UA graduate who also went to medical school is just as bourgeois as she is. Katsuki retaliates by saying that she's hardly bourgeois because fuckin' hell she's the heiress of the Yaoyorozu Group, one of the biggest fuckin' industrial giants in this part of Asia.

She remembers Mother, and her declaration from more than a decade ago. _Can you imagine you and that vulgar blonde boy getting along?_ And she remembers all the things that has passed that led to the events of that morning.

 _You have no idea, Mother,_ she thinks with a flushed smile, as she takes Katsuki's strong hand and follows him into the station.

When they get there, Katsuki takes out his commuter card and glances at Momo, who stares at the ticket machines with what she hopes is a sense of foreboding that isn't too obvious. "Oh my god. A 27 year old Japanese woman's first time on the commuter train," he says with a cocky smile. "Ya need help, Princess?"

She frowns. "It's fine. I know what to do."

She read about how to work these machines before on the Internet. She knows that in cases of emergency, she ought to be able to rely on public transportation without looking so helpless. It's irrational to feel so anxious about such a simple thing!

She eventually is able to get a ticket to the correct station on her own, without causing significant delay to the other commuters waiting patiently behind her. When the ticket pops out, she takes it and beams at Katsuki, with a proud little, "See, Katsuki? I did it~"

She hopes she only imagines how the other commuters step back and mutter " _... bouncy~_ " under their breaths. Katsuki glares at them anyway and throws one arm around her possessively.

"Stop bein' so fuckin' cute in front of the other guys, dammit," he grumbles irately in her ear as they make their way through the crowd.

"I'm not doing it on purpose," she protests, feeling a little incredulous. He has called her many things before, like sexy and brainy and a fuckin' hot piece of ass and other vulgar terms that seriously make her feel as such, but this is the first time that he called her cute.

Who knew that Bakugou Katsuki is capable of such terms? The tips of his ears turn pink right as he says it, and it seems that he probably realizes the same thing at the same time.

"You should stop being so cute too, you know," she says, as he boxes her against the door of the crowded train, shielding her from who he thinks are wolfish men out to get her. "They might take you away first."

"Shut up. I'll bite you."

* * *

And so her first train ride ends, and their first date begins.

Fully knowing the circumstances between them, she supposes it's still odd that this is the first time they enjoy each other's company outside of Hosu. It feels odd, in a sense, that the shyness that ought to be there when he takes her hand and leads the way isn't there. The feel of him next to her is just as natural as breathing, even as they're out and about in the crowd and their curious gazes.

And there is quite a handful of them, appraising him and her and the link of their hands between them. She knows how unfairly attractive Katsuki is, but it's doubly interesting to see males and females alike turn their heads to look at him in awe. He has the type of appearance that captivates, and she can't help but feel a little giddy as they walk.

She can show him off, right? Right?

He grumbles, disconnects their hands so he could throw his arm behind her instead. "Fuckin' losers ogling at you-lemme show 'em who you're with, hah?"

"Katsuki, you're so dense…"

"The fuck are you talking about?"

Momo says nothing more, and instead leans in closer to him.

They reach the restaurant, and Momo orders a variety of things-flatbread with peanut sauce, shrimp and squid cooked in chili, green curry with extra chillies, rice fried with all sorts of vegetables and spices. The food is good, and she allows herself to eat more than she has the past few days. To her relief, Katsuki scarfs down almost as much as she does, but with an astonishing amount of extra chillies and sauce.

"Hmph. I can totally do this better. Just you wait, Ponytail."

Predictable response, but he seems to be enjoying himself. He sees her look, and challenges her to take some of his curry if she's going to be so fuckin' smug in her place. She takes him on, as stupid as it may be-Katsuki might put actual lava on his food and think it isn't spicy enough-and takes a spoonful in her mouth, before she can think too hard about it.

"Well?"

She coughs once-the heat is very, very intense, but somehow it tastes better than her own. "What did you add to this? It's so good!" she says, taking another bite for good measure.

His jaw slackens as he watches her chew on his food thoughtfully. "... too fuckin' perfect, what the hell," he mumbles, almost imperceptibly.

"Excuse me?"

He shakes his head and mutters how ridiculous she is. "You seriously eating my fuckin' food? You really are a bottomless pit!"

"Well, I never!"

He's only teasing, though, and they finish their meals with a sense of satisfaction.

The food isn't the only good thing about that date. Conversation flows between them quite naturally, but it's different from before, because Katsuki does more than just ask her questions this time. He answers her questions, or at least makes an effort to. His answers are clipped, and it looks like a lot of effort on his part to give them at all, but he tries, at least. And his answers are honest, from the sounds of them.

They're walking along the boulevard, the sun beginning to set over the sea. There's barely any drama when she dares to ask him about him and Midoriya-san, and when he decides to answer.

"That nerd and I go way back. Our relationship ain't exactly sunshine and rainbows," he tells her, voice oddly calm. "You sure you up to this?"

"Of course, Katsuki."

He takes a deep breath, and begins from the very beginning, it seems-how Bakugou Katsuki, the talented little shit who told another little shit to take a swan-dive off a roof, ends up dying and living a second life, where pro-heroism is impossible. How a weird friendship, if it can even be called that, begins one evening in the hospital, days after Best Jeanist cuts his head open and harvests a blood clot from the surface of his brain, sparing him from a coma but leaving an injury that cannot be removed.

It's then that Katsuki swears that no other brat will suffer as he did, and that fuckin' Deku swearing to do the same as him, and eventually that Mindfucker and Shitty Hair too, who for some unfathomable reason began hanging around him the entire fuckin' time they were at school. How they studied their asses off in UA, while prodigies like that half-and-half bastard shone under the spotlights and took their dreams right outta their hands.

(He's proud of that one festival where he almost showed that IcyHot up-too bad the stress of the battles were too much for him and his shitty brain injury, and he blacked out right before Todoroki could deliver the final blow.)

(Momo wonders if he knows the impact of what he did to all the other kids who watched him, how he entranced the country with his fierceness.)

He says all these things without a hint of braggadocio or any sobbing theatrics. Maybe there's remorse there somewhere, but he's more concerned about pulling out all the harsh memories and putting them into plain words, so Momo can finally understand.

"And… yeah. Eventually that nerd and I finished med school. Got our licenses. Got into Musutafu Children's Hospital. Started workin' our asses off." There's a wistful look in his eyes as he pauses, looks at the ocean and the dimming sky. "Momo… when you do what you do, why do you do it?"

Her goals from the time she sneakily sent those application forms to Shiketsu Medical School are the same as now. "All I want is to help people," she tells him honestly.

He nods. "Yeah. I figured." He sighs quietly. She can hear the thoughts running around his head with a deafening sound. "Me? Who the fuck knows. It ended up being less about the kids, and proving that I'm not a helpless little bitch who could lose consciousness in any given moment."

Momo watches his face carefully, and quietly waits.

"I guess… that's why I hate that fucking nerd. And why I ended up pushing myself so hard that I had a seizure that lasted a week. And why everyone, except that fabrics bastard, told me to quit medicine altogether."

His jaw tenses and his hands grip his arms tightly, like he's about to blow something up. Momo knows he won't, though. He breathes in deeply, and continues.

"So there. That's the fucked up history of the nerd and I." The rage doesn't dissipate, but hides under the surface. It'll be a while, before it goes away. "I… tried to keep you away from it, because who the hell needs another person to pity me? Not me. I've had enough of shitty bastards thinking they're better than me, acting like they know what's good for me. I wouldn't be able to stand it, if you of all people started to…"

"Katsuki," she says, taking both hands into hers. She looks right into his eyes and tells him, quite honestly, "I don't. I never will."

 _You're an amazing person. You're strong. You're trying to change._

He smiles at that, and reaches out to hold her hand. She lets him.

It'll be a while before he sorts things out, but she decides to be there by his side when he does.

* * *

He takes her back after that. When she reaches home, though, she can't help but pull him through the door again, her mouth on his, ravenous as if they haven't just spent the whole day together, just the two of them.

He responds in much the same way too, so she supposes it's all right. The bedroom is too far away, apparently, as he goes from slamming her against the living room wall to lifting her with her legs wrapped around his torso to the couch. They kiss each other and tear each other's clothes off as if their lives depended on it, and he fucks her fast and rough until she's moaning his name over and over, like a mantra.

After they come down from their highs, panting and mildly bewildered, she tells him, "Stay the night."

"Hah," he says with a smirk. "Ain't you spendin' too much time with a non-elite bastard like me? What will your old hag think?"

She rolls her eyes. "Katsuki, kindly refrain from gloating and calling my mother names while you're still inside me."

"Ah. My bad."

He kisses her sweetly after that, tenderly caressing the sides of her face and making her skin burn in the way she really likes. He agrees stays the night.

(Luckily, after some struggle, they make it to bed this time.)

The night comes, and passes by with them in each other's arms. It's a nice way to sleep, with him filling in the empty spaces of her bed. He falls asleep ridiculously quickly, still possessive in the way he drapes his arm over her, underneath the duvet. She presses her nose against his as he snoozes away, feeling quite blissful.

The morning comes quietly. Rubbing their eyes in unison and yawning, as the alarm sounds before daybreak, reminding them of the long Monday ahead of them.

Reality is harsh, but the shower they shared that morning isn't. Momo wonders if this'll be a problem in the long run, because all the kissing and petting and eventual rough love-making that inevitably occurs will making getting to work on time a real challenge. It's all his fault, he doesn't want his hands off her and he tells her as much.

(But apart from a few teasing complaints, she doesn't make a real effort to stop him. That man is too good with his mouth and his hands. She supposes it's her fault as well.)

They miraculously make it out of there, with time enough for Momo to create some clean clothes for Katsuki. They're out the door soon after, Katsuki promising to get them breakfast from the cafe, glowing and ready to face the workday ahead.

* * *

The sun is almost out when they walk the block and make it to NTG Cafe. Today, Kyoka-san isn't late, because she's already outside and talking to Kirishima-san, who looks like he's about to go home from the midnight shift.

They look at the couple in unison, bewilderment increasing as they see their hands together. "B-B-Baku-bro?! And Yaomomo?! In the early morning, holding hands, suspiciously coming from the same place?!" Kirishima cries, hands coming up his hair in exaggerated drama. "Oh my god, Bakubro, Dr. Momo, I can't-Jirou, this isn't a hallucination, right? I'm not that sleep-deprived, right? Pinch me now, come on-"

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair, I'll punch your lights out now, ya don't even need to ask," Katsuki grumbles. Momo notices, however, how less the harshness is in his voice, and how he doesn't let go of her hand.

Kyoka doesn't pinch Kirishima, but instead prods him in the middle of the forehead with an earjack. She does the same thing to herself, funnily enough, before regarding the two of them with an amused smile. "You can't blame Kirishima, Baku-boss. Yaomomo, this is awfully bold of you, but I'm still pretty stoked that you guys made up. And… etcetera," she says, with a teasing grin.

Momo flushes, but gives them a bright smile. "Thank you, Kyoka-san, Kirishima-san! And, um, good morning."

"Ahh, so bright, Dr. Momo, I think I'm going blind, it's like I'm staring at the manliest man!"

"Christ, Kirishima, calm the fuck down, I'm seriously this close to kicking your ass-"

"Ahhh and you're calling me Kirishima today! The heck bro! I've never seen you in such a good mood!" Kirishima looks like he's on the verge of joyful tears as he takes his phone out and leans in closer to Bakugou. "Come on, bro, I gotta take a picture of the two to commemorate this day! Say cheese~"

"The fuck I'm saying cheese you hedgehog brain!" The limit is reached, and in the next, Katsuki traps the joyful Kirishima in a headlock.

Kyoka looks at them judgmentally, and then at Momo, to mentally tell her to ignore the fools. She holds on to the taller woman's arm and smiles. "So… I'm guessing you guys are here to grab a bite to eat? Let me open up the cafe for you, I guess."

There's warmth and a palpable relief that she feels through her touch. Kyoka is genuinely happy for her, it seems. She nods at her gratefully and follows her in. "Thank you so much, Kyoka, you should eat with us too!"

"Nah, it's good, I had a bagel before I-"

An ear splitting explosion cuts their conversation short, the accompanying blast almost throwing them off their feet. Kyoka yelps, covering her sensitive ears with her hands. Momo helps her by covering her hands with hers, hoping that it drowns out the next sound.

"What on earth-" She doesn't even hear herself say it, when another explosion hits, making the ground shake.

The next moment happens fast-Katsuki and Kirishima throw themselves over the two women as another booming sound fills the air, followed by screams and the crash of glass next to them. Katsuki flips the tables around them, to cover them from the onslaught of broken glass and rubble, while Kirishima hardens his body and hovers above them like a shield.

"What the hell was that?!" the redhead screams, looking around desperately, and pales. Momo pales too, when she realizes where he's looking. "That's-Hosu Gen-"

"They're… attacking the hospital?!"

The rumbles dissipate eventually. Katsuki holds his hand out for Momo and Kyoka to keep still, and peers out from behind the fallen table. "A few heroes are responding to the explosions, but I don't see anyone who looks like a villain," he tells them in a low voice, eyes glowing dangerously red.

"Oh my god," Kyoka whispers, fear plain in her dark eyes. "Wh… what do we do? We should be getting out of here as fast as we can, right?"

"Yeah," the blonde says, training his eyes to the vicinity. Momo follows his gaze, sees all the people running and screaming, crying out for heroes or the police. She can hear his rapidfire thoughts, sharp eyes assessing the situation. They should be running, but he's holding them back. "Jirou… use your ears against the ground. Now."

She looks at him oddly, but complies. It must be difficult for her, since the explosions and the ongoing background noise must have numbed her hearing.

There are a few moments where they all wait for her with bated breath. Her eyes, squeezed shut in concentration, suddenly flutter wide open, horror etched on her face. "There's… something big," she whispers tensely.

Momo and Kirishima look at each other, even paler than before. Katsuki's jaw tenses more, but the fire focus remains in his eyes, burning bright. "Where?" he says in a quieter whisper.

Kyoka swallows. "Under… underground." She chokes, and forces herself to speak. "Really, really close to us…"

She points at the street in front of them, where a police car with blaring sirens screeches to a halt. Two policemen, one with a tail and one with a ridiculously large hat and coat, hop out simultaneously with their weapons in hand.

Seeing the look in her eyes, Katsuki instantly screams at them, "Watch out!"

The policemen only have time to whip their heads in their direction, before the ground gives out from under them. Thanks to his warning, they manage to leap to safety, but that might be the only good thing about it.

A large… _thing,_ barely humanoid, crawls out from the hole in the concrete. Its skin is a sick green, a convoluted mass on its head that might be exposed brain glinting under the sunlight. A manner of chainsaws and corkscrews and hammers stick out from the ends of its multiple limbs, making a ruckus of grinding metal as they move.

Its dull eyes look around briefly, dumbly. Searching for something, someone.

Its eyes fall over Momo. Tilts its head in curiosity.

And wordlessly, launches itself forward.

* * *

 **AN:** Okay! First of all, Safri from Twitter made fanart for this story! It's on my tumblr (junionigiri . tumblr. com)! Look at it! I've looked at it for the past 24 hours it's so beautiful dfjaslk;fjsalkjfalskfj

Next-obviously most of this is just self indulgent fluff and smut, as a way of thanking you all for reading the story so far ^_^ Special thanks again to Tasia'sEndlessDreams for helping me write this chapter, gurl thanks really I wouldn't have dared to write all that without your help haha! I hope you liked that. If you didn't, please let me know whyyyyy because I'd like to improve!

The last event has finally happened. Ahhhh. Which means, that the story is almost over! I'm thinking two more chapters and a short epilogue! Please don't give up on the story just yet!

Again, thank you for reading and commenting and kudos-ing and leavin' a heart and reblogging! I heart y'all~


	9. Juice Pack

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 9: Juice Pack

 _AN: Warning: blood and violence, but nothing too detailed._

* * *

She doesn't listen to the horrified screams around her, or the crumbling of concrete under her feet. She doesn't listen to the thrum of pure adrenaline coursing through her blood. She doesn't listen to the small, rational voice in her head that tells her to be absolutely terrified about what's happening.

There is no time for hesitation.

Before she truly understands what she's doing, she steps back and blocks the creature's attack with a ballistic shield she creates out of the flesh of her arms. Through torn sleeves, she grits her teeth and pushes the creature back and away from Katsuki, Kyoka, and Kirishima, who are frozen where they stand.

"Kirishima!" she yells. In the next second, the redhead snaps out of it and hardens himself. One of the monster's limbs armed with a rammer soars down, hitting Kirishima's hardened body before it crushes him down to the concrete.

The sound of metal against flesh rings loud and painful in the air. Kirishima cries in pain and parts of his hardened skin starts to bleed. Still, he grits his teeth and holds against the strike. This gives Momo a small window to create another object over the skin of her belly. She flings the bottle and shuts her eyes, screams for everyone to stand down.

The Molotov hits the monster straight in the face, giving it hardly a moment before being blinded by fire and noise.

"Holy shit!" Katsuki shouts within the screams and flare-despite the situation, he looks at her with mouth agape in awe and admiration.

The monster flinches and screeches, but even as parts of its skin burn, its strikes are relentless against her shield and Kirishima's hardened body. In fact, the assault seems to have made it angrier and stronger, and with each strike Momo felt her arms weakening, only able to hold on when Kyoka steps next to her to keep her hand on the handle steady.

"What-ow-does it want from us?!" Kirishima says from a steady series of hits from a hammer-clad limb. Momo moves her hand to create another bomb from her body, but stops when she feels a burning-hot calloused hand over hers.

Katsuki grits his teeth, eyes on the monster in front of him. "Fuck if we know, but I ain't sittin' pretty here until we find out!"

Before any of them can stop him, he's already flying mid-air with residue of his blasts trailing behind him, hands glowing with potent explosives aimed right at the monster's face. They gasp when the monster stops its assault on their shields and turns to Katsuki, arms raised as if to snatch him from mid-air.

It's only a few moments, but that's all that Momo's brain needs to make alarming conclusions-that the monster is sent here with a target, and its target is Katsuki. And Katsuki is gravitating towards its open arms, about to be captured, unless Momo does something in the next second-

"No!"

A weapon that she barely thinks about materializes in her hands. Without thinking any further, she leaps on the outer surface of the shield, away from Kyoka's attempt to hold her back. The weapon in her hand-a 14-foot spear made of iron, coated in tungsten-zooms from her hand to the creature's flank.

The spear impales the hardened skin for a few centimeters before it snaps neatly into two. At the same time, its head is buried in explosions from Katsuki's hands, the noise of it barely masking the pterodactyl like screams of pain escaping its mouth. Its vision compromised by light and pain, it misses grabbing its target, allowing him to land unsteadily on the pavement.

"Momo, get the fuck out of here!" he shouts through a grimace of pain, eyes glinting dangerously as the beast thrashes about and just misses hitting him with a chainsaw. "It's after you!"

"No, you run! It's after you!" Momo shouts. Hearing her voice, the monster turns its blind swings at her head. She dodges and sees cut strands of her hair fly in front of her.

"Jesus, Ponytail, this ain't the time to be stubborn! Do you wanna get fuckin' killed?!" At the sound of his voice and the explosives in his hands, the monster also swings at his direction again. Katsuki sends a blast against its arm, which only holds it back for a stuttered moment.

"Katsuki, please don't argue, just leave!"

"As if! You leave, I'll fuckin' kill this thing on my own!"

"Stop arguing, it's obviously after the two of you!" Kyoka screams in frustration. The monster hears her and jumps in her direction. Katsuki and Momo assault it with bombs and explosives, managing to distract it to come after them instead.

"I might be wrong, but it might be after all of us!" Kirishima yells. His skin softens, showing bruised and bleeding skin. The way he staggers, punch-drunk and in obvious pain, makes Momo alarmed. When a mallet swings in his direction, he still manages to harden his arm and shoulder and parries against it quite effectively. "So, I dunno, mmmmmaybe we should get the hell out of here while we still can?!"

Katsuki glares at him, but much to his frustration, Kirishima has a point. His hands glow, and Momo watches in dismay as he ignores everything they say anyway, positions himself to attack the monster head on. "Jirou, are there more of these fuckers around!?"

The monster shrieks against a blast aimed at its chest. Momo throws half of her spear against an arm aimed at his head, giving the explosive blonde enough time to roll out of its way. She glares at Katsuki, who glares right back at her for standing her ground.

Kyoka whimpers. "Y… yeah-"

"How many?"

Momo notices the police officers from before, fighting their own monster. The younger one with the tail is barely able to hold on fighting it using martial arts, while the older one shoots with a rifle that only slows the monster down very minimally. At the very least, they distract it enough for the evacuating civilians around them to make a run for it.

Still, if there's another one of these strong beasts hiding in the shadows, people just might die around them-

Pale and shaking, Kyoka whispers, "Ten… no, twelve… fifteen-"

As if on cue, the ground shakes beneath them once more, one strong enough to almost throw the four of them off their feet. When it's done, another gaping maw forms from the concrete, giving way for more of those dark-skinned creatures to crawl out. Their dull eyes look around, see the entrance of the hospital, and walk there, barely cognizant of the cacophony and chaos around them.

"Oh my god..." The hospital. They're going to destroy the hospital. All the workers, the staff, the sick, the infirm...

"Mina-" Kirishima chokes, and before any of them can stop him, he's dashing towards the direction of the entrance. The chainsaw monster preoccupied with their group sees him and the glint of his blood on the pavement and moves to attack him.

"Kirishima! Fuck-" Katsuki yells, hands exploding too far away from the monster to stop him. A grenade is forming in Momo's hand too, and even as it hangs mid-air, she knows that it'll be too late, the monster's going to get Kirishima before either of them are able to stop it-

A spark of electricity sparks through the monster once. It freezes and shrieks and seizes when it's covered in bright yellow bolts moments later. When the shock stops, it falls to its knees, gasping and lost, dead eyes going in all directions.

The four of them turn to the source of the electricity. A certain blonde man has his hands poised like a gun, and he seems to be struggling to keep his dulling eyes bright as he gives them a victorious grin. "Whey! I mean, yo! You guys need help?"

"Kaminari!" Kyoka cries in shock. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

Kaminari Denki shakes himself to his senses and ducks next to Kyoka as the monster shrieks itself back to life. "Oh, you know, patrolling with my boss and then kinda getting lost when all the monsters came out and now I kinda need to find her before things get a little more fucked up, and..."

"What?! I'm your fucking boss, pikashit!" Katsuki yells, sending another blast towards the monster before it makes a full recovery.

"You ain't my only boss! I'm a part-timer, remember?!" Kaminari yells back, before yelling "Watch out!" and forcing Kyoka down as the force of the blast comes down on them. Momo feels the force and takes the opportunity to hold Kirishima down before he tries to run over the unsafe battle grounds again.

"K-Kaminari-san, do you mean to say that you're working for a pro-hero?" Momo struggles out, as she forms another shield for her and Kirishima. It's getting harder and harder to focus, as more and more fights between monsters and hapless civilians go around them. If the pros are on the way here, they might have a fighting chance.

"Yeah, Dr. Momo!" the blonde says brightly in spite of the situation. "You might have heard of us? The underground hero Emily and her crew, the Polterguys?"

"That wasn't in your fuckin' resume!" Katsuki growls, rolling out of the way of another attempt at a grab. Momo assaults the monster with more Molotovs, but it seems to be recovering from the blasts faster and faster as the attacks keep coming. "And fuck if I see any shitty pro-hero fightin' here! Where the hell are they? People are gonna fuckin' die if-"

Momo screams as a limb almost hits Katsuki again. The monster's fist crushes the concrete next to him like it was made of peanut brittle. The blonde coughs as he rolls out of a dust cloud and shields himself behind a tower of debris.

"That's right-Kaminari, where are they?! Shouldn't they be here by now?!" Jirou asks, her ear-jacks stabbing the concrete underneath them.

"Reiko-chan-I mean, Emily picked up the distress signal after the first explosion was reported! I'm guessing the pros and police in the Hosu, Naruhata, and Kiyashi areas got 'em too, but there's Nomu's sprouting up everywhere else, and we barely have enough manpower rounding up civilians, much less fighting back-"

"Nomus?! These are fuckin' Nomus?!" Katsuki grits out, as the monster blindly stumbles through the dust clouds in search of his targets.

Momo struggles to remember what little information the police have on Nomus-mutated reanimated creatures created by the League of Villains, with multiple quirks and a resistance against damage that surpasses the sturdiest pro-heroes. The few, but increasing sightings on them so far led experts to conclude that they are not intelligent enough to do anything but wreak havoc, but that their actions seem to be goal-directed at the very least.

"Yeah," Kaminari says, sending another surge of energy towards the chainsaw Nomu, which stuns it for a good second. "This guy with us looks weaker than the other ones we've seen so far, so we just gotta keep fighting this one, just a little more..."

"Right," Kyoka says weakly, "But… you said there's lots of them coming here…"

Coming for them, Momo thinks, as she wills a rifle to form from the flesh of her back. She keeps one hand on Kirishima's collar, even though she knows that he's too stunned to move then.

Kaminari nods. "About a hundred, we think."

Momo's jaw drops. Next to her, Kirishima pales and looks despairingly at the entrance, where monsters of various mutations are in the process of smashing through an improvised barricade made of debris and vines. Shiozaki-san must have been responsible for that.

"Kirishima," she mumbles to the redhead next to her, bleeding and terrified, "Look at me, okay? Ashido-san's strong, she can stand against the monsters-and she isn't alone, Shiozaki-san's doing a good job of holding the fort, and I know Todoroki-san is there too, with his fire and ice… Kendo-san and Tetsutetsu-san are there to help, and you know how strong they are, right?"

He looks at her as if forcing himself to believe in the inane things that she's saying. "Y… yeah, they can… they can protect everyone there…"

"Yes, they can. And we can protect everyone else here."

Kirishima stammers as she pulls out the M16 from her back and aims it at the monster, who is staggering towards where Kyoka and Kaminari are huddled. A little more, Kaminari-san says they only need to push a little more. She shuts one eye and peers behind the scope, taking a deep breath.

"Duck!" she screams.

The monster shrieks, and so does everyone else in the vicinity. Momo doesn't flinch, even as the monster sees her and stumbles in her direction, even as the recoil threatens to throw her off her feet. She doesn't stop shooting, doesn't keep her eyes off the Nomu, as terrifying as it is to stare at its flesh ripping apart and regenerating limitlessly.

A little more, she thinks. We have to kill this thing, just a little more-

The Nomu is closing in on her, the rifle getting lighter as the bullets run out-

The empty click of her next shot rings far too loudly within the noise. The monster is weakened, but is still standing strong at an arm's length away from her. She sees a desperate Katsuki leap from his hiding spot, throwing explosives at the undistracted Nomu's back but too far away from where they are. As the monster descends, all she can do is close her eyes as an arm moves to swipe at her neck.

"DETROIT SMASH!"

A strong gust of wind hits her instead of a solid arm, throwing her off her feet and making her stumble into Kirishima's arms. She hears him gasp as rapid, machine gun sounds flood the air in front of them.

When she manages to open her eyes, she doesn't understand what she's seeing at first. The monster is surrounded by a blur in red, white, blue, and gold, swirling around it and through it, its body jerking in many consecutive directions with each strike. In a matter of seconds, the beast falls, its body battered and destroyed, steaming from the heat of all the punches delivered. The blur of striking colors stops and takes on the form of a blonde man with striking blue eyes, built and strong and barely scratched after its assault.

"That's..." Momo whispers in awe, as the man looks ahead at all the chaos.

"I am HERE!" The underground hero Lemillion shouts, strong arms out to the side, a big smile as blinding as the sun. The sound of his declaration seems to bring everyone to a standstill around them, before a great noise erupts all around.

Out of nowhere, various costumed pro heroes in varying degrees of disarray make it to the entrance of the hospital to fight against the Nomu. The colours of spandex, as nauseating as they are, are a vision that fills everyone with hope. Momo could almost collapse with relief.

Lemillion turns to them and gives them a thumbs up. "You guys did great holding the fort! But the fight's not over yet! You guys should prioritize evacuating now that the pros are here!"

They make noises of affirmation as Lemillion leaps off to fight another nearby Nomu. "We should get going," Kyoka says urgently, earjacks pointing to an alley close to them. "I can use my ears to avoid the Nomus."

"You should go ahead," Kaminari says, only glancing at them briefly as he makes his way to the fray. "I gotta find Reiko-chan, and… save Ojiro-"

"What the fuck, Kaminari, don't be stupid!" Kyoka screams. "You might die out there, you know! You can't jump in there, just because your boyfriend is-"

"He's right there, Jirou!" he says in desperation, looking to where the policeman with the tail is struggling with a Nomu while two pros try to help him out. No-one has the heart to tell him off with the look in his eyes. "I… I'm a sidekick too, you know, even if it's just part-time! Someone has to help!"

He's off before anyone can stop him. Katsuki curses him as he does, but as the earth shakes around them with all the fights going on, they know the place is getting more and more unsafe and they can't just stand there and wait for the ground to collapse around them.

But Momo feels a little too sick to move. Maybe it's from the colors flying all around, or all the energy she spent creating those bombs and shields. Or the fact that she nearly just died at the hands of the Nomu while pretending to be a hero. When she wobbles with her movement, Kirishima holds her steady. She sees Katsuki zooming towards her, crimson eyes close to hers in the next moment, shining with worry.

"Momo, you did good," he says gruffly and tenderly, putting strong, protective arms around her. "Just a little more, okay? Gotta get to a safe place."

She nods, not trusting her mouth to make anything other than sounds of weakness. She feels herself lifted off her feet by the two men next to her and begin to move, sees all the blinding colors swirling around her, the screams, the flashes of light, the heat-

"Look! Up in the sky!" Someone screams from somewhere far away, and Momo feels Katsuki and Kirishima halt next to her.

At first, it feels like they're watching a star explode. There's fire, green and blue at the center and a blinding orange at the edges, stretching twenty meters in all four directions across the sky above them, high above the Hosu skyline. Squinting, Momo is barely able to make out two figures at the center where the heat is most intense-a familiar figure in blue and orange, flames sprouting from his face, fighting a sneering creature black from head to toe.

"Endeavor! The number one is here!" People start cheering all around them. "We're saved!"

"Damn, that flame is something else," Kirishima whispers in wonder. Kyoka glances at them and gestures for them to keep moving against the maddening crowd around them.

Momo can't keep her eyes away from the star in the sky, though. She sees the blue and green flicker around Endeavor, sees him take one hit after another. Something glints in the mass of black, something white and sharp and fast that darts towards Endeavor's head.

"NO!"

It happens very quickly: one moment the sky is filled with fire, and next it isn't. The silence is deafening as the man drops like a dying comet from the sky, crashing against the side of a sixty-story office building.

"No…!"

Everyone-heroes, civilians-hold a collective breath when the fire stutters from the crash site, and stops. The monster with various blades sticking out of its skin, sticks to the side of the building, climbing its side like a mountain.

"Endeavor-san!" A flurry of wings breaks the unbearable silence. A blur of red, who must be the number 2 hero Hawks, followed closely by the unmistakable red, white and blue of Lemillion leave the ground and go straight for the monster. Soon the fight reaches the ground, away from the steaming mass of melted steel and glass of where Endeavor lay without any signs of movement.

"Momo," Katsuki whispers beside her, eyes dark and tense. "Did you see what I see?"

She bites her lip to the point of bleeding. "Endeavor is…"

Did she see it right? The blood-stained blade from the monster's flesh? The spurt of blood within the flame? The way Endeavor's hand flies to the side of his neck, the instant snuffing of the flame around him?

The lifeless way he crashes against the glass?

"Guys, we should move," Kyoka begs as chaos erupts around them. "I can't hear anything anymore, there's too much going on..."

Kirishima nudges Momo, his face paler than ever. "C'mon, Jirou says we gotta go-"

Ignoring the two of them, Katsuki presses on. "I'm not sure, but it looks like a clean shot to his carotid. The left one." His hand on her tightens, strong and burning, tense in a way that makes her believe he's making choices in his head. He doesn't take his eyes off hers.

Momo nods. "If… if you're right… he won't have a lot of time," she tells him, voice shaking.

"Bakugou!" Kyoka's voice comes out as a half-scream, half-sob. Around them, people are shoving each other, screaming helplessly within the mess. "Please, if we don't leave now-"

Katsuki shouts over Kyoka's pleas, fright in his eyes shifting into a piercing determination. "He doesn't have a lot of time. No-one here can help him. But if the two of us went to him, we can-"

"What are you talking about?!" Kirishima protests loudly in her other ear. "There are pros, Bakugou, they can help Endeavor out, we shouldn't meddle and make things worse!"

"The pros can't do shit, Kirishima! Do you see any of them try to go up there while fuckin' Hawks and Lemillion are keeping that strong-as-fuck Nomu away from everyone else?!" He growls through gritted teeth. True enough, the pros are either too preoccupied fighting the Nomus littering the streets, or evacuating the panicking hordes, or panicking themselves. "I'm not going to sit around, waiting until they figure shit out, not when the number one pro hero is up there fucking dying!"

Kirishima and Kyoka freeze at the last word that hangs in the air. Dying-people all around them are at the risk of dying, and the one closest to that is the number one hero. The new symbol of hope, the strongest man in the country. Hasn't this happened before years and years ago? The reality of it sets in and sinks in their guts like lead, making the world spin around them.

Within that, Momo hears all of the unsaid words in Katsuki's rant: Not again. Never again. Not while I'm here.

It's so that her next decision comes to her easily, clearly. There is no doubt in her mind when she nods at Katsuki and answers, "I'm with you."

They turn to her in silence-Kirishima and Kyoka stunned, speechless. Katsuki, with burning determination. He nods and takes her hand, extracts her from Kirishima's grip and without another word runs in the opposite direction of where Kyoka is leading them to safety.

"Bakugou-"

"Ears, get going! Shitty hair, follow her and make sure neither of you fuckin' die!"

They don't call for them a second time. Kyoka curses; Kirishima shouts "Don't die on us either, Baku-bro! Dr. Momo!" before taking the smaller girl by the arm and leading her to safety.

The nausea Momo feels in her gut swirls, but she pushes it down to the edges and forces it from her consciousness. Her grip on Katsuki's hand is strong and sure, her steps falling hard to the ground. When they reach the edge of the building, with its occupants streaming out and all around them in panic, they look into each other's eyes.

The building is on the edge of collapse. Getting up where Endeavor has crashed is unsafe and foolhardy. They might actually die doing this and accomplish exactly nothing, but...

"I suppose we'd have to fly," she tells him, shrugging off her doctor's coat.

She sees the slight tremor in his hands, and the widening of his eyes. He takes a deep breath and releases it. Adrenaline rushes quick in his pulse in a thrum that she feels from where she stands.

"Damn right. You know how to hold on tight, right, Princess?"

There is no time for hesitation.

She nods after a deep inhale of her own. He bends over so she can cling to his back, arms securely wrapped around his shoulders and legs around his waist. He straightens up as much as he can and looks up at the gaping hole at the side of the building.

She inhales the sweet scent of nitroglycerin in one breath. Exhales. And then they're off the ground.

Their rise to the sky and the side of the building is unsteady, frighteningly so. The blasts from Katsuki's hands propels them at odd angles. He grunts with the difficulty of balancing himself and her added weight, dangerously careening towards the glass and twisted steel beams sticking out of the edges. She feels the wind rushing past her ears and cutting through the skin peeking out of her tattered clothing, her ponytail going in all directions.

The burn from his hands become more unstable as they fly higher and higher. Yet she feels Katsuki's even breathing as she clings onto him for dear life. It seems impossible they'll make it, but having him so close to her, she knows that they will.

They somehow reach the crash site. With a grunt of effort, Katsuki lands at the edge of it, keeping him and Momo steady as a beam gives a little with their weight. He grips her arms with searing hot hands protectively as they peer over the edge of the abyss.

It's dark and eerie, the crevice spanning multiple floors. The cold air blasting through makes her teeth chatter, makes the absence of Endeavor's flame apparent.

Are they too late? "Katsuki, do you see him?"

He squints at the darkness. "We gotta get closer," he says, leaping carefully at the edges of the jagged rings of broken floors. Their landings are hardly stable, but miraculously they manage to keep upright without letting the structure collapse further. Katsuki is nimble on his feet as they descend through the pit, passing by wreckage of concrete and steel and plastic. There are immobile bodies at some floors, and the couple that they can approach safely are pulseless. The touch of cold skin under her fingers makes the bile in Momo's guts rise and the tears spill over in her cheeks.

"Momo." Katsuki doesn't allow himself to linger over the dead. He takes her and leaps down. His eyes glint in the dark, but he keeps them forward. Momo forces herself to do the same.

It's probably ten floors down when Katsuki pauses at the edge. "There," he murmurs, pointing to an orange flicker in the darkness.

Gingerly stepping over the debris, the two of them find a clearing, where a large, unmoving body clad in torn spandex lies on his back. The flames come from bits of charred wood and paper and not from the flames of his face, as they had expected. Momo makes a flashlight out of the flesh of her arm and shines a light over him.

"Oh god…"

Katsuki immediately kneels next to him and does a quick assessment. Endeavor is pale and gasping, can barely make a sound as they check his pulses. The pro's hand is weakly pressing on the wound of his neck when Katsuki moves it and sees the blood ooze. "Shit, the cut's deep. We can't wait. We gotta stitch him up quick."

Momo nods and crouches down next to him, immediately forming things from her flesh as she does so. "I can do the carotid repair, just give me a minute to create-"

"No. I'll do it."

She stares at him, mouth agape. "Katsuki, you haven't done this in a while. And your hands… you just blasted your way up here-"

He scowls and snatches a pair of sterile gloves forming on her lap. "It'll take too long for you to create and do the repair. Besides, you're shaking more than I am."

She looks down at her hands and sees that he's right. They're thinner than they were this morning, and so is the rest of her. All the stress of creating has her body protesting.

There's no time to waste. Grimly, she nods at Katsuki. "Okay. I'll assist you."

"Good." He takes a deep breath and asks for a light.

The air around them shifts as Katsuki dons the protective gear and rushes to prepare the site. Momo has never seen him with laser-like focus, eyes fierce and silent as his hands set to work swiftly over the wound. There are no excessive movements nor excessive words as needle and thread go through tissue, sealing the wound shut. Momo concentrates as she never had before, forming tools as much as holding them apart, hanging onto Katsuki's every word as he performs the emergency surgery.

His hands immaculately steady, Katsuki eventually performs the last stitch and exhales. Cleaning the wound and covering it up, he says, "We need to get fluids in him. Can you make some with your quirk?"

She shakes her head. "I can't make that out of lipids."

And even if she can in theory, she doubts that she can make anything out of her body at that rate without her sacrificing her marrow. The strips of clothing hanging on her body are now loose, the fat over her limbs and trunk almost completely depleted. Her head spins from the rapid loss of body mass.

"Shit," she hears Katsuki curse next to her, and in the next moment his arms are around her, keeping her steady. She struggles to look up at his face through the spots in her vision. "It's fine, Momo, you did great. Hold on, all right? We'll get you outta this fuckin' place."

"Mm," she says, blinking herself back into consciousness, as hard as it is as the seconds pass by. "Endeavor-san first… Katsuki, you have to save him…"

"Momo, don't fuckin' pass out on me now-stay with me, stay here, right here-"

I am, I swear, she wants to say, but her mouth can't move. Damn, they might have been too reckless-what's the use of attempting to rescue Endeavor when they can't even make it out of there by themselves? She tries to keep her head up, tries to be strong, but her vision dims and she isn't sure that the sounds she's hearing at the edges of her consciousness is real-

"RELEASE! Found them! Bakugou! Dr. Yaomomo!"

"Momo! Hold on!"

Two voices, male and female, come from her right. If she concentrated, she could have sworn that they were voices that she knew. She tries to turn her head to the sounds of the voices, but Katsuki moves above her, keeping her still.

"Half-and-half? Roundface? Headband fucker?!"

"Shut up," Yosetsu's sharp voice, so unmistakably his, comes from Momo's left. "Hey, Momo, you okay? Bakugou, what the fuck, why did you let her end up like this-"

"You shut up," Katsuki snaps. "This guy's neck was cut right open, and we did what we had to do to, all right? Momo saved this bastard's life with her quirk!"

Momo wants to shove their heads together for arguing at such a dire time, but thankfully someone else steps in to do that for her. "The two of you shut up and let me do my job!" Uraraka-san snaps in between them. "Come on, Yaomomo's about to crash, we gotta get this glucose solution in her, stat!"

A needle pierces through her skin, but she hardly flinches at the sensation. When the cool fluid pushes through her veins, the spots in her vision dissipate, and she feels her mind step out of the haze. She blinks and focuses her vision on Katsuki, Yosetsu, and Uraraka, who are staring at her warily. It is only then that she sees that Uraraka is in full nursing regalia, eyes and cheeks glowing in determination, and Yosetsu is in his scrub suit, with bottles of IV fluids and other medical supplies fused to his bare skin.

"Momo. Say something," Katsuki murmurs gently in her ear.

She nods weakly at them. "I'm okay… I'm awake now," she stammers. Her voice is wobblier than she'd like, but at least she's able to speak at all. "W-we did a carotid artery repair on his left… Endeavor-san, we have to-"

"We're on it," Uraraka says, standing up with one of the bottles from Yosetsu's body and rushing to Endeavor's side. "Shouto, here."

She wouldn't have known that her associate was there if Uraraka didn't call him by his name. Todoroki is deathly silent-he has just placed a line through Endeavor's arm with a bag of blood dripping through it and is now attempting to get vital signs. Next to him, a serious-faced Uraraka places another line at the other arm, murmuring numbers to the dual-toned doctor.

"He's in shock," Todoroki says, voice oddly blank. "Awase, we need those..."

"Got it," Yosetsu says, un-fusing another bag of medicine from his body. When Momo moves to help, he un-fuses a juice pouch from himself and shoves this in her hands and stops her with a stern glare. Shifting his gaze to Katsuki, he says, "Make sure she doesn't collapse, shit-face."

"As if I would, Welder-fucker," Katsuki grumbles with a tch. Yosetsu glares at him again, but sets to work with Todoroki and Uraraka in the next moment, stabilizing the fallen pro. Momo watches in worry as Todoroki adjusts all the fluids, his face frighteningly free of any emotions. As Katsuki watches with her, body tense and eyes unmoving, he doesn't let her go.

He's frightened, she realizes. Even though Todoroki Shouto is the most frightened of them all to lose this man, everyone is fighting off the cold chill of fear of losing the number one hero on their watch.

"We did all we could," she murmurs to Katsuki, as they keep their eyes on the sutures he placed over Endeavor's neck.

"... yeah," Katsuki agrees. "We did."

It feels like an eternity of waiting when Uraraka tells them that it's probably safe to move Endeavor now. After regulating the temperature with his quirk, Todoroki nods at Uraraka, who nods back and touches Endeavor with all her fingers.

"Can you float all of us with your quirk without killing us with the drop, Roundface?"

She glares at him, but nods. "Not like I have a choice, Explodey-face."

Not like any of them have a choice, really. Uraraka touches all of them with her hands-first Todoroki, then Yosetsu, then Katsuki who chooses to carry Momo in his arms, and then herself. She holds on to Endeavor's sleeve with one hand and hooks the other around Todoroki, in a small gesture to keep him grounded.

"Okay, let's go."

Without further ado, the group floats through the crevice, their ascent more stable than it was when Katsuki used his quirk. They're able to make it out of the building when Uraraka holds her breath, puts all ten fingers together, and whispers "release" like a prayer.

The loss of gravity jolts all of them like a gunshot, and there's a moment where they feel themselves free falling for a few heart-stopping seconds. But Uraraka grits her teeth and controls the pressure on her fingertips, keeping her eyes level and her face free from any trace of green. Miraculously their descent slows down halfway, slow enough that it feels like they're riding an elevator in the open air.

The ground zooms in closer to them. The people see them and point in both awe and horror at the sight of the number one hero unconscious and flameless.

Momo, as weakened as she is, grips onto Katsuki a little tighter.

"He'll make it," Katsuki tells her, loud enough that Todoroki hears and looks at him with those unreadable eyes. "Bastard is tough as shit."

She hopes he's right.

When they land, Uraraka keeps Endeavor afloat until a stretcher is pushed their way by Shinsou and, to Momo's surprise, Kirishima. Both of them are equally bruised and battered, but they're able to work steadily as if they aren't.

"What the fuck are you still doin' here, Shitty Hair?!" Katsuki growls when gravity is completely back in their systems. "I thought I told you to get your ass the fuck out of here!"

Kirishima doesn't look up from his work. "Yeah, but we couldn't leave the hero work to you guys! It wasn't manly to just up and leave! I wouldn't have been able to live with myself! Jirou too! She went back looking for the cops to help the evacuation efforts-"

"But the Nomus-"

"Mostly managed by the pros, and thankfully none of concern anymore," Shinsou interrupts curtly as he draws blood from Endeavor. "Now we can focus on the Code Orange. Todoroki, Uraraka, we got this, Iida's preparing the ICU, so-"

"Thank you," Todoroki answers. The sickly grey pallor sticks on his skin as he watches Endeavor wheeled in the hospital. "We'll help in the code."

Shinsou pauses. "You sure? I heard you and Uraraka almost died fighting a Nomu on your own, before that guy-"

"We can do it, Shinsou-kun," Uraraka interrupts, face still filled with determination. "We need to help everyone who's hurt."

"Very good. We need all the help we can get."

They all turn in unison to the dignified voice coming from behind them. Dr. Hakamata, despite having his doctor's coat and trademark denim suit frayed at the edges, ambles behind them with a harried-looking Amajiki-senpai walking close behind. It appears they've been in a scuffle themselves, but both look ready to get to work.

"We already have a number of cases lined up in Neurosurgery-head traumas and the like. I'll need all available neurosurgeons up in the suite now. All four residents should go up as soon as you're able."

"Four of-" Yosetsu stammers, looking at Momo incredulously. "B-but Jeanist, Momo-I mean, Yaoyorozu can't, she's just recovering from overusing her quirk, and-"

"I'll do it."

At the sound of her voice without the unsteadiness in it moments ago, all eyes turn to her in various degrees of disbelief.

"Yaoyorozu… you sure? You're really… thin," Shinsou says bluntly.

She shakes her head. "I'm still standing. My hands aren't shaking anymore. As long as I don't use my quirk any further, I can help out."

Amajiki is miraculously able to look at her and Dr. Hakamata in the face as he says, "Sir, we should give her some time to recover, at least. She wouldn't last in the OR by herself like this."

"Fucking elf-shit! What bullshit is this!" Katsuki growls, stunning everyone into silence again with how wide with anger his eyes are. "Stop fuckin' doubting what Momo can or can't do! She says she can do it, and this Denim Bastard thinks she can too, so why the fuck are you shitheads so adamant to keep the most brilliant doctor outta all of you from helping?! As if you shitheads have the luxury of standing here while the fuckin' code orange is still going on-"

"Katsuki, it's all right," Momo says, but he isn't done.

"Besides! She won't be alone!" Staring at Dr. Hakamata right in the face, he points a thumb to himself, nostrils flaring. "I'm going too. I'm the first assistant for all the surgeries you'll throw her way."

Everyone gasps, except for Dr. Hakamata, whose eyes remain unfazed as Katsuki assaults him with that glare. "Really? I thought you didn't want anything to do with hospitals anymore, Bakugou-kun," he replies coolly.

Katsuki grits his teeth. "Really? You're gonna be a smug bastard about this now?!"

Despite the suffocating tension around them, Dr. Hakamata laughs, and pats him on the shoulder. "Not at all. Glad to have you back on board, Dr. Bakugou." He looks at the stunned staff in front of him and taps his fingers against the fabric covering his chin. "I suppose it goes without saying that because he is not affiliated with our institution, I answer to all his medical decisions while working with us."

The look on his face leaves no room for argument.

Soon, all of them rush back to the hospital, its hallways congested with stretchers and patients, and make their way up the suites. Honenuki is already operating on his own patient when they arrive there, assisted by Mina. Todoroki and Uraraka get the next patient on deck, while Amajiki and the neurology chief resident Hadou-san take the next one. Momo takes the short waiting time on the OR floor, eating a rice ball and finishing Yosetsu's juice pack, while Katsuki drops next to her with even more food and drinks for her to consume.

"I might actually choke if you think I'll finish all those in ten minutes," she says in the lightest tone she can muster at that point. Her limbs are still thin, but thankfully without tremors as she takes in the next bite.

Katsuki smirks. "Eat this all or I'll kill ya, Princess."

"Really… you and your threats to keep me alive," she says with a laugh. Her tone falls in the next moment though, when the gravity of the situation catches up on them.

People are dying around them, in massive numbers. If she doesn't operate, they just might die. If she makes a mistake, they might die faster.

She wasn't good enough to operate on her own before all this happened.

She… hasn't operated on anyone with such high stakes before.

"Hey," Katsuki's voice snaps her back to reality. She meets his ruby eyes, uncharacteristically soft and warm and tender within the mess of her mind. "Don't give me that weak look. You can fuckin' do this, all right?"

She tries her hand at a weak smile. "I wonder if I'm strong enough for this, Katsuki."

He makes a small frustrated sound in his throat. "The woman who was ready to kill a fuckin' Nomu with a machine gun she made from the fat of her back thinks she ain't strong enough for this?" he says with a hint of incredulousness that makes her laugh. "Oi, I'm serious. If you think you ain't good enough to do this, then nobody else is. I didn't just swallow my pride in front of Best Fuckin' Jeanist if I thought you're bad at this."

A harried nurse calls for Dr. Yaoyorozu and Dr. Bakugou, telling them that the next patient is being wheeled in as they speak. Katsuki helps her to her feet with one strong hand before he holds on to her with both, eyes looking straight into hers in that intense way that awakens her to her senses.

"Listen. Momo. You got this."

She smiles, genuinely this time, and squeezes his arms in affirmation. She nods.

Without further ado, they rush into the operating room, ready to save lives.

* * *

 **AN:** Hi. Sorry this took so long;; but... yeayyy, almost done? Hehe.

I hope this wasn't too laborious to read! Action scenes are such a bicth to write. scenes with more than three characters even more so. and nomus, frackin nomus ughhdfkjsafd

a bit of explanation for kaminari's sidekick status-idk if it's really legal to have a civilian as a sidekick who uses quirks? but in vigilantes, iida tensei tries to hire koichi, who isn't a licensed hero in any way, as part of his team with the intention of taking advantage of his mobility quirk. so i'm thinking there are special conditions that will allow for that set-up... which is really important to the other stories im planning to add to this AU hahahaha

and im willing to bet that in situations like this, civilians are allowed to use their quirks in public, if it means surviving!

also, thank you Chumunga64 for help in editing ^_^


	10. Caramel

**Ruby Red and Caramel  
** Chapter 10: Caramel

 _AN: TW: Mentions of blood, but described in a medical setting._

* * *

"Why the hell are we doing this to ourselves?! Aggh!"

Tetsutetsu is the one who yells this against the chilly night outside of Momo's apartment, where he and Yosetsu and Itsuka are having a break. It's a highly improper thing to do in such a quiet neighborhood and Yosetsu tells him off for it. Momo, however, is inclined to agree with his sentiment.

It's hard not to. All they've done the entire year was to study, up until finals, where they studied harder than they ever knew they could.

"'Cause we want to help people. Make a difference and all that," Itsuka supplies without any of her usual vim and vigor. The usually upbeat redhead is all but drained of her positivity studying mutation-quirk anatomy.

Tetsutetsu makes a frustrated noise again before dropping on the concrete like a block of metal. "Yeah, I know I know, but it's so hard to think of that when all we do is study our asses off! It doesn't make me feel like I can help people, it just makes me feel like I might be too dumb to be a doctor!"

"You have a point," Yosetsu deadpans, earning him a stern glare from Momo and a big-handed slap from Itsuka. "Hey, I'm agreeing with the first part of his statement!… and only just a little bit of the dumb part."

Another slap rings throughout the night. Tetsutetsu doesn't seem that offended though. He might be too much of a sport, or just too tired, or both.

Momo takes this opportunity to chime in, "But you know, it's times like this where I wonder what it would be like if we didn't go to medical school."

Her three friends eye her in curiosity, Yosetsu especially. "You're thinking about your middle school fantasy again, Momo?" he says teasingly.

She smiles at him with a shrug. "Don't you?"

Itsuka chuckles at that. "Yeah, definitely. I think everyone does from time to time." She stretches her hands up above her and stares at them in interest. "I wonder what my life would be like if I had pushed through going to UA instead of Shiketsu GS? Would I be a distinguished pro-hero right now?"

Without missing a beat, Tetsutetsu shouts with a grin, "Of course you would, Kendo! And I definitely would be Battlefist's biggest fanboy! I'd be your fanclub president!"

"You're already Battlefist's biggest fanboy," Yosetsu says flatly, as Itsuka giggles with a blush.

"But you're onto something there, Yaoyorozu!" Tetsutetsu swings his fists meaninglessly into the air in front of him, making it sound. "I thought a lot about bein' a pro too! Still think of it, even though it's too late for us since we're old and all. But it kinda freaks me out sometimes, y'know… I mean, it ain't exactly a safe job and all. We could break our necks out there, or worse!"

Yosetsu nods sagely at that. "Yeah… being a pro ain't a joke. Remember that thing that happened when we were in middle school? The one with All Might?"

"Yes, I imagine everyone does," Itsuka says, her ponytail bobbing as she nods. "That's what stopped me from applying in the first place. From the start, Mom and Dad were iffy about me going to heroics, but… I mean, if that terrible thing could happen to a kid and All Might himself, even with all the heroes around..."

They fall silent, as if to reminisce collectively on the events that happened. When All Might saved that child and all the consequences happened, everyone was exposed to the brutal truth of heroics: that heroes are humans who put more than their lives on the line, and sometimes heroes can't be saved.

And with so little heroes, who is there left to stand up for the rest of them? Times like this, Momo wishes that she stood her ground into going to UA even more. With all due humility, she thinks she would have been a good hero. People need a versatile quirk like hers, and she thinks that she is competent enough to make so many things to help them…

An alarm sounds from her phone, signalling the end of their break. The four of them collectively groan.

"Well, that's about it for our flashback scene," Itsuka says, dragging a protesting Tetsutetsu by the arm to the apartment. Momo and Yosetsu follow, with him putting an arm around her and her leaning her head against his shoulder.

Perhaps noticing her exhaustion or her sudden glumness, he rubs a hand comfortingly over her shoulder. "You'll be saving people one day too, Momo. So don't look so down."

"You think so?"

He nods, obviously tired but very confident. "Definitely. You won't be a pro, but you're gonna be someone's hero one day." And then, with a teasing grin, he adds, "And you don't need to traipse around in a hot red bathing suit to do it, either. Not that I mind that wardrobe in particular, but-"

 _"Yosetsu._ "

He laughs and sticks out his tongue, the teasing grin on his mouth not going away.

They spend the next few hours cramming medical knowledge in their head, until one by one they drop on the floor, asleep and practically dead to the world.

* * *

The operating room is emptier than it's ever looked, and it disorients Momo at first. Besides her and Katsuki, only Dr. Kayama the anesthesiologist and a lone nurse who goes in and out of the operating room, obtaining all the tools they need. Apart from that, the patient being tended to by Dr. Midnight, as she's called sometimes, are the only living beings in the usually crowded room.

Gloved hands up, Katsuki looks across her, ruby red eyes burning intensely between cap and mask. "Ready when you are, doc."

Momo nods. "Let's do this."

All of their patients are victims of the attacks on the three districts infiltrated by the Nomu who suffered from head trauma. Some cases are harder and more complicated than others because of quirks that make the structures of their skulls, skin, and even the anatomy of the brain different.

"Quirk suppressants running, Dr. Yaoyorozu." Dr. Kayama, despite the looming emergencies they have lined up, looks utterly confident. Years and years of experience makes her look like she would do no wrong.

Momo wishes she can smile the way she is right now. It's only the first patient and already the self doubt creeps at the back of her mind. At the first cut of the skin, at the first drip of blood seeping from the line, her hand freezes.

She doesn't know how long she stares at the cut, but Katsuki snaps her out of it with a bark of her name and a glare of ruby eyes. "Focus," he says in the fierce and gentle way that only he can do. "You know what to do next."

And Momo realizes that he's right. The freezing happens once or twice more, and each time Katsuki's voice gets her out of the fog. She doesn't know how she manages it, but they manage through the operation in an hour and thirty minutes.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

They look at the scans and the cases with Dr. Kayama and Kendo, who goes in and out of the OR and makes sure everyone is all right. As they set up for the next operation, Katsuki urges her to eat something, even though the adrenaline in her bloodstream doesn't let her feel hungry.

The next operation starts. Momo's thin hands getting more acquainted to the feel of the drill. The self-doubt is there, but it's easier to ignore the voice this time as her movements become more practiced, more confident. Katsuki is focused and silent, quick to do what he needs to do on the field without being told.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

Momo wrings her hands, making sure that they're steady. They're thin outside of the surgical gloves, and pale. Katsuki forces another rice ball into her, and scrubs in for the next case.

They operate again. The drill cuts through bone and makes a great noise that reverberates through the haze in her head.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

They're in there for a half day or more. Momo isn't sure. They try to get the operations done under two hours at a time. There's a lot of them though. Momo knows; she saw the people thrown by the monsters, crushed by debris, caught in between the pro's fights or the other civilians desperately evacuating through narrow sidestreets. Shinsou tells them that he and Dr. Aizawa are transferring as many emergency cases as they can to the other hospitals, but it's difficult because of all the damages in the roads. There isn't much to that could be done to the massive influx of patients.

One patient comes out, another comes in.

"Momo," Katsuki calls out.

She's midway into cauterizing through skin. Momo tries to tell her hands not to shake so much. No, not now, not while they've just started.

She will do more harm than good with this knife in her hand. Closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. "I need a moment."

The digital clock on the other side of the room reads 02:05. She doesn't know if it's AM or PM. The numbers don't mean much anymore.

She feels a gloved hand over hers. Katsuki stares at her meaningfully. There's fatigue there, but not the slightest bit of doubt.

"I got this," is all he says.

Quietly he takes the tools from her hands and gives her the handfuls of gauze in his hands. There are many reasons why she should stop him from doing this-he isn't affiliated with this hospital. Best Jeanist will take the brunt of the responsibility if he makes a mistake, at the risk of both their licenses. He hasn't done surgeries for a year or so, except when he stitched up Endeavor's neck earlier and saved his life.

She doesn't even know if he's done this before. If he knows this type of procedure apart from reading books or watching what Momo has done all day.

But all Momo has to do is to look at Katsuki, his fiery gaze, his steady hands, the way his body pulses in pure determination. And she realizes that she can trust him on this, with all her heart.

So she does.

The laser-focus look in his eyes, the same one he had earlier, comes back. His hands move precisely, every minute motion with a purpose, without an ounce of hesitation. When he speaks because he needs something done it's in his usual bark, but more concise, leaving no room for confusion.

They eventually close the patient up without further problems. Katsuki doesn't look like he did his first neurosurgery after so long. When Kendo comes in he tells her exactly what needs to be done for the patient without any unnecessary fanfare.

One patient goes out…

Time passes; Dr. Kayama keeps telling them to rest, but Katsuki and Momo keep refusing. "No matter what happens, this is the last patient we're operating on, for heaven's sake. I'm not as young or as fired-up as you two," she says, brandishing her fuzzy pen like a whip.

Katsuki replies to this with a precise, totally impolite _tch._ "We gotta keep goin' as long as there are patients coming in, old hag."

Her brow twitches in offense at this. She looks like she has half a mind to sedate him, but luckily Kendo comes in and tells them good news. "We transferred the remaining emergency cases out, and we have no urgent need to operate on anyone right now. Nice job, you two."

Dr. Kayama sings a brief hallelujah and tells them that she's going to sleep in one of the rooms outside. Meanwhile, Kendo tells the two of them to sit on the floor while she gives them updates on the world outside.

Momo obliges, and only feels then how sore her feet and lower back are. The floor isn't or comfortable by any means, but it feels heavenly after hours and hours of standing up. Katsuki falls in next to her.

"I can't believe you two took on so many cases after fighting out there," she tells them. "Actually, everyone really pushed themselves today… Honenuki and Todoroki and Amajiki-senpai. Tetsu and the other guys from ortho. Even Shishida and Tsuyu-chan found a way from the blocked streets to get to the hospital and went straight to OR and just operated until the patients stopped coming."

"What the fuck else are we supposed to do, Dr. Ponytail #2? This fuckin' hospital is lucky that a lot of us are still standing after all those fuckin' Nomu tried killing us all," Katsuki snarls without volume or vitriol. Kendo laughs softly, apparently too tired to do anything else but to accept her new nickname.

"I dunno. All of you are on the verge of collapse, but are too stubborn to stop and rest. I mean, it's heroic and all, but it's pretty reckless, yeah?"

Kendo is one to talk. Momo heard talks of her and Tetsutetsu volunteering to transport much needed blood products via motorcycle while the Nomus were still ravaging the streets. She looks like she hasn't had a moment to close her eyes since then, nor does it look like she intended to rest at all before this. Maybe this is the first moment she's had to sit down too.

The orange-haired doctor sighs with a tired smile. "It's been twenty-seven hours since the code, did you know that?"

Twenty-seven hours. Maybe that's why the room looks sideways and a little unfocused.

"... Yaoyorozu?"

She decides then that Katsuki's shoulder is a really nice place to rest her head, although she feels the stiffness of it when he shifts to put his arms around her as if to support her.

"'M fine, Kendo-san," she says. Or she tries to. She probably didn't speak clearly enough, because her orange-haired friend doesn't look like she understands what she says very well. "You were saying?"

The sturdy thing she's leaning against-it's Katsuki, of course, she knows it's him, even though for some reason she can't raise her head to look at him or confirm his presence just now-breathes deeply and shudders with the movement. "Doesn't matter, Momo. Just stay there, all right?"

"That's right." She sees Kendo go sideways too, teal eyes fluttering closed. She should tell her friend that the floor's not a cushion and she should find a better place to rest, but she can't tell her otherwise because they're eye-to-eye and it means that they're in the same place after all. "Y'know… it's a good idea if we stay here for a bit, right?... rest and all. Bakugou-kun, it's fine if Momo and I are like this, right?"

"Mm." The surgery suite's floor isn't that dirty, but definitely isn't designed for anyone to take a nap on. Still, never has an idea sounded better to Momo. She knows she needs to shift her body this way or that way so her neck doesn't strain or her back doesn't get any more sore, but her arms don't want to move. Her eyes don't want to open. Her mouth doesn't want to protest, not even when she feels something shift beside her and do the moving for her, leaving her curled up on the floor in what is probably an undignified heap.

She's already dreaming by the time she's wrapped in warmth and lifted to somewhere that makes her feel like she's floating.

* * *

She wakes up from a dreamless sleep to softness and warmth and sunlight streaming through the windows.

She tries to rub her eyes, but feels something taped to the back of her hand. Flexes and stretches her fingers, feels the soreness of sleepiness as she does. She sees the line pierced through her skin, the bottle hooked to it. She wonders how she got there and who carried her there until she sees a head full of sandy blonde hair snoozing peacefully over the side of her bed.

She wants to smile for his presence, and frown as well-the IV line with the sugar solution flowing through it must be his doing. Really, she knows that she needs to rest after everything that's happened, but he may be going a bit overboard.

He of all people needs sleep more than anyone, yet he's doing it in such an uncomfortable and inefficient position. Still, he does so soundly, face relaxed as if secure, in the way that Momo loved to see.

Still, he should really take care of himself first and foremost. He of all people deserved to sleep on a bed after all that's happened There's room on the hospital bed for one more person. Even though it's technically against protocol, she's sure that Hosu Gen will let them sleep side by side, just this one time.

She runs a hand through deceptively soft blonde strands.

He sighs at the touch. It doesn't take long before he's already sitting up and blinking himself awake.

Bleary red eyes search hers. The natural scowl is on his face, but without the usual lion-like fierceness behind it. "Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he rasps out.

"Good morning, Katsuki." She watches him for a while, allowing a small smile to form on her mouth as she watches him stretch and rub his eyes more awake. He looks exhausted, but different from the previous mornings they spent together. Calm, for some reason. "Is this your doing?"

He smirks as she holds up her hand with the IV line. "You don't have any fat left on the rest of yer skinny ass. Gotta make sure you don't die from the crash. Geez, you fuckin' doctors really can't take care of yourselves, huh?"

She raises one eyebrow at him. "You have some nerve, Bakugou Katsuki. Have you rested at all since..."

Wait, how long has it been already since she slept on the floor? Her sense of time gets challenged every now and then thanks to sleepless hospital shifts, but not to this extent. She fumbles for her phone on top of the side table and frowns. "... is this correct?"

Because if her eyes do not deceive her, it's been three days since the Nomu attack; twenty seven hours spent in the operating room, and the rest of the time she spent knocked out cold, apparently.

Katsuki stretches and grunts in agreement. "Yeah… actually, most of you just slipped in a fuckin' coma at the same time. Ponytail 2 did say that all of us fought with our quirks to get to the hospital, so it figures that we'd all crash since our bodies ain't used to that kinda strain."

Katsuki looks at her then, making her follow suit. She hasn't had a chance to look at herself closely during the height of their operations, but it's clear now how she's literally skin and bones and on the verge of breaking apart.

 _How hideous._ Suddenly self-conscious of her appearance, she covers her front with two thin arms. "I suppose you're right. It was really reckless of us to act like heroes when we weren't. We really put ourselves in danger, and-"

She stops speaking when Katsuki holds both her hand. She thought he's been looking at her this entire time, but the way he does it now, with such intensity and emotion, makes her wonder how she hadn't noticed his eyes the entire time.

"You're a hero, Momo. One of the strongest ones there is," he says in such a quiet voice that burns low in the center of her heart, making it catch flame.

 _You're a hero,_ the words echo in her soul. She realizes then how long she longed for someone to tell her these words on a podium, in a ridiculous costume, in front of the most important people in the country.

She never imagined how much more meaningful it is to hear it in this disheveled state, while wearing a hospital gown, in front of one of the most important people in her life. Before she knows it, there are tears flowing out of the corners of her eyes and a smile working its way on her face.

Katsuki huffs, but smiles fondly as the tears flow. One hand rises to cup her face, thumb rubbing against the damp trail on one too-hollow cheek. "And definitely the most beautiful one on the face of this fuckin' planet. So if you keep lookin' at yourself like you're a fuckin' bog witch, then I'm forced to remind you otherwise."

Her voice is wet when she giggle-sobs at his ridiculous words. "Remind me again, Katsuki."

He obliges, and then puts his lips on hers and holds her close, like he means it.

And she knows he does, because his kiss and his touch and his breaths are gentle and soft, subtle and uncharacteristic of him that it's almost unreal. Oddly enough she's aware of him, his realness and his presence, the thoughts running through his mind, the throb of his pulse, the blood running through his veins. She feels all of him, and she feels right at home.

Safe and sound.

It only lasts a few moments. When they pull apart, she suddenly doesn't feel as fragile as she ought to feel.

"That good enough for ya?"

She hums in assent. "I suppose, but you might have to remind me every now and then."

She swears she isn't being needy when she links her thin hands with his strong, searing ones. It's just that she's sure, more than ever, that she'd like it very much if he stayed right there next to her.

She might truly be falling in-love with him, after all.

(And this might be the first time the words are spoken in her mind so clearly.)

He looks like he has words to say by the way his eyes look soft, but they sharpen in the next second when someone clears their throat behind him.

"Oh. Awase-san. And Midoriya-san?"

How long have they been standing along the doorway like that? She hopes that it isn't too long, but she thinks it might have been, by how Yosetsu is scowling at Katsuki and how pink-faced Midoriya is.

"What the fuck are you nerds hanging out there like a couple of perverts, huh?" Katsuki growls, but with less bite than Momo expects.

Yosetsu returns his glare, but fortunately looks disinterested in another fight. He points his thumb at the stammering Midoriya and tells them flatly, "I just got here to visit Yaoyorozu. Not sure 'bout this guy though-looks like he's been standing outside the door for a long while before I got here."

"You shitty-"

"Ahh! K-kacchan! It's not like that!" Midoriya flails helplessly as Katsuki advances, and it looks so comical that Momo barely suppresses a giggle. "I was going to-I mean, Best Jeanist called us both to, um, assist him again just now, but you and Yaoyorozu-san were… Um, I didn't see anything, but-"

"Holy shit, shut up fuckin' nerd!" Katsuki looks like he's a half-step away from straight-out physically assaulting Midoriya, but thankfully he just looks meaningfully at Momo as if to say _I'll handle this_ and shoves his hands in his scrubsuit pockets. "Is it a fuckin' emergency? Just go right in and spit it next time already, you damn nerd!"

"S-sorry, Kacchan! Ah, it's fine, the patient's on the way up from ER, so anyway let me tell you about the case first…"

The unlikely duo begins to make their way out of the room, inexplicably amicable despite the profanities, as if the past hanging off their shoulders weighed absolutely nothing. Momo watches Katsuki's back and all his easy confidence and feels more than enough comfort from it.

"So," Yosetsu says with a lopsided smile, after a moment of silence spent staring after Katsuki's shadow, "you love him yet?"

Momo's face instantly warms, her mouth falling open stupidly at his flat, questioning gaze. "I-Awase-san, what are you-"

He sighs in mock exasperation. "So you don't? What's that smitten look on your face for, if not 'cause of that bastard?"

She shakes her head free of her blush. "I-please, don't call him a bastard, Awase-san. It's unseemly and unfair, because he's strong and kind and earnest and-"

"-and you're in-love with him."

She puffs her cheeks when he laughs at her undignified sputtering. After she recovers from it, she gives him her best haughty look and clears her throat. "And if I am? It's… it's not improper of me to feel this way about him, is it?"

"Of course not." Yosetsu sits at her bedside and looks at her warmly. "For what it's worth, Momo… I'm glad you found a guy like him. As weird as it is for me to say."

He's as straightforward and sincere as he's ever been. It's amusing that he is, and that he isn't threatening violence for once, considering the subject of their odd conversation. "What do you mean by a guy like him?"

He hums. "Well… It's not like I liked that guy from the start. He's the biggest fuckin' jerk on the get-go, he called you Dr. Ponytail in front of the whole hospital, he looks like he thinks of himself too highly-he's just as obnoxious as Monoma, for cryin' out loud, and that's saying something-and worst of all he pulled that shit with you before…"

It's funny that he looks like he's thinking over his words carefully to be considerate as he says one insult after another. Momo would feel offended for Katsuki, but she knows that Yosetsu's got a point to make at the end of all this.

"… and on top of that, the two of you together is just fuckin' _chaotic._ I don't know what the heck is up with you guys, pulling the shit you did with Endeavor and against those Nomus. You could have died, you know? And if it weren't for the police being preoccupied during the time, you could both be facing charges for public usage of quirk-"

She flinches and apologizes weakly. Why is he scolding her out of nowhere, weren't they talking about how Katsuki is good for her? Maybe she should interrupt him now because it is taking him a while to get to the point.

"But… you know, despite all that, somehow he brought out the best in you, and vice versa." He finally gives a thoughtful huff and looks at her in the eye. "When I saw you working by his side, I was sure that the you I knew back then is different from the you now. I dunno how, but you're definitely stronger than before."

She laughs weakly. "You all say that, but look at me." She waves her hands briefly, showing off the IV line hooked to her vein.

He looks at her, small and frail in her hospital gown, and doesn't bat an eyelash. "So?"

She sighs. "I almost died doing those reckless things… I probably caused a lot of trouble as well."

"But you didn't," he says bluntly. "I'd say that's pretty strong. And the fact that the bastard being with you somehow got those two blockheads to kiss and make-up… I'd say that's monster-tier levels of amazing."

She scrunches her eyebrows. "Those two-you mean, Midoriya-san and Katsuki are…"

Yosetsu's face flashes in annoyance briefly. "Yeah. Dunno what the hell happened since I was also out cold when those two talked, but when I woke up they were already working together and taking on some of the emergency cases with Jeanist." He leans forward with a look on his face designed to annoy. "So… looks like he's aspiring to be less of an intolerable asshole? Sounds like love to me, Yaoyorozu."

The blood returns to her face with a vengeance. Much to her chagrin, he notices this and laughs at her obnoxiously. And he accuses Katsuki of arrogance!

"You're as annoying as ever, Awase-san," Momo says, not without affection.

If it's true though, she'd feel so very ridiculously proud of Katsuki for letting go of his pride and resentment, and she'd have to give in to the impulse to kiss him on his silly face all over. Seems she has a lot of questions to ask of him after all this is over, it seems.

"Well, you got the rest of your lives, I guess?" Yosetsu stands up and stretches. "As for me, it's enough for me to see that you're alive and that Kendo and Tetsutetsu have nothing to worry about. Sorry for you, expect some noisy visitors later."

Speaking of which, hasn't it been a while since the four of them were in the same room together? Things are so different from medical school, so much more painful than any of them expected, but all of the unexpected changes are worth it.

She smiles warmly at him. "Thanks for visiting, Yosetsu."

He gives her a lopsided grin and holds her shoulder-a gesture so familiar and affectionate in a different way from Katsuki's, but not any less valuable.

"Take care, Momo," he tells her in all sincerity before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.

* * *

The operation is simple enough, and after two hours Hakamata leaves the field to write his post-op notes in the chart. It's not his usual habit to leave closing the operative site to trainees, since stitching shit up is kind of _his thing_ and he's famously anal when it comes to doing it with such precision as to leave minimal scars, but after responding to the code even the denim bitch must be feeling a tad too tired to do things in his usual annoying way.

It's about fuckin' time that the bastard trusted his juniors with these simple tasks, but unfortunately it leaves Katsuki alone with the fuckin' nerd to close up the drugged little kid's head together.

He wordlessly takes the lead suturing up the patient, grunting every so often when he needs Deku to do something. The green-haired nerd complies each time, sniffing and shaking like a snotty kid who watched the entirety of The Land Before Time.

What the hell. Who cries when doing surgeries? Katsuki thought that the year without him yelling insults in the background might have been better for the nerd emotionally, but it looks like you can't outgrow being a fucking crybaby if you've been that way all your shitty life.

"I'm sorry, Kacchan," he says, as a helpful nurse wipes his tears before they fall in the sterile site. "It's just.. I can't believe we're working together again, it's been so long, I didn't think you'd come back, and now you are, and-"

And ain't it just peachy that Deku's extra emotional after everything that's happened. "Shut the fuck up, Deku. We're still working, if you haven't noticed."

"I know, sorry," he says, still sniffling. "I mean… I really didn't know what to do earlier, you know. I didn't mean to do it-I thought you would hate me for it, but I really _had to_ -"

Katsuki's mouth twitches under his mask. "You mean punching the lights out of the administrator who talked shit to me and told me to get the fuck out or kiss my license goodbye? While wearing a robot suit made by fuckin' Ingenium's engineer? While crying like the fucking useless nerd you are?"

He looks like he's on the verge of another loud nervous breakdown complete with tears that will rival the Niagara falls, but the nerd manages to keep it together. "Y-yeah! I mean-the robot suit thing was just, um… I needed to use it to fight when the Nomus were out there, you know, 'cause I'm quirkless and they were really strong and the rehab center had a lot of patients in it but-"

If he mutters any more, Katsuki would bark at the circulating nurse to punch the living daylights out of the fucking nerd.

"... anyway, I know you hate it when other people speak for you," Deku says, not bothering to say that he's learned it the hard way after all these years, "but at the time, I really had to do it, Kacchan! He was telling you that you were worthless and you had no right to be here and who knows if you can handle the pressure?"

Katsuki snorts. The administrator's fuckin' wrong, of course, but he had a point. He only had Jeanist to back him up, but to the rest of them he's just a general practitioner whose license is expiring next year.

Besides, hearing those things isn't new-he's had to listen to iterations of those words from his superiors back in Musutafu, and most of all from himself.

And in a way, he's had to hear it from shitty fuckin' Deku, who treated him like he's a fragile little butterfly who would keel over any given second. Always saying shit like _you looked like you needed help,_ not trusting that Katsuki knew how to take care of himself. It's very hard to let go of all the built up shame and resentment over the years, but…

"... but I know you! You're super capable and smart and nobody knew what they were talking about," the nerd says with a fierce determination. "I mean… you aren't weak or worthless, Kacchan. You're totally the opposite of it, and it sucked that no-one listened…"

He never knew how to handle praise from this shitty nerd who says one embarrassing thing after another. If this were a manga he'd have torn his shitty speech balloon to shreds with his fangs, if he had to. Still, this isn't that type of story, and so he had to settle with a snarl and an insult. "Fucking hell, don't go around punching people just because they talk shit! Only I get to do that! What kind of idiot are you?!"

It certainly was a shocking sight to see. Katsuki's aggravated that the nerd just had to decide to grow balls and act out against authority after years of better opportunities and reasons to do so.

(And more aggravating is the tiny part of Katsuki that thinks that it looked fuckin' badass, tears and all. What the fuck. He'll never say so out loud.)

"Sorry, Kacchan," he says for the hundredth time, and it just gets more annoying each time, but he manages to continue the sutures. "I'll never do that again, promise! I'm just happy that you aren't as mad at me anymore and you gave me a chance to work with you again."

They cut the last of the sutures. Katsuki cleans the area briefly before covering it up with gauze. "Don't get me wrong, shithead. I still can't stand your guts."

His voice is quiet when he says this, without the usual piping hot vitriol underlining the words.

"And I'm workin' with you 'cos half the workforce is still recovering and we got no choice," he continues, avoiding how Deku brightens up noticing how not-angry his voice is. Fucking hell. "After this I ain't operating again. Not like I have any right to."

Deku looks like he's about to protest, but a haughty voice beats him to it. "Is that so, Dr. Bakugou? And here I thought you were regaining your conviction once more."

He jerks violently as Best Jeanist ambles up to them in that usual self-assured way of his, the way that makes him wish that a tornado would come and muss up his stupid 3/4 partitioned hair. "What the fuck did you expect me to do, Denim Fucker? Did ya think I can go back to operating just 'cause you want me to?"

"Yes," the bastard replies shamelessly. "More importantly, you seemed like you were on your way back in this world. Am I wrong to assume that this," he gestures plainly to the patient sleeping underneath the drapes, witless of the life-threatening blood clot they removed over her brain, "is something that you truly wanted to do, and that you did not just merely comply to my selfish wishes?"

Katsuki growls. "Fuck you! I ain't here just 'cause your pansy ass ordered me to be here, okay?! I'm here because I belong here!"

And it's true-he stepped back into this world after a year of avoiding it simply because lives were at stake. He didn't tell Momo back then, but he was scared shitless when he stood in the almost-empty suite for the first time in a long time. But he got into the groove of things easier and more naturally than he thought, and before he knew it he was taking the scalpel from her shaking hands and doing things he didn't think he'd ever be doing again.

And, _fuck_ if it didn't feel like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

It doesn't matter though. He's only allowed here because the hospital is desperate, and also because the shitty nerd punched the lights out of anyone who tried to stop him. Still, after things have settled down properly, any self-respecting hospital shouldn't allow him into an operating room. He doesn't have enough training, nothing to show for the knowledge and technique he honed for the past years.

It isn't that fucking simple as this fucker says, and he knows it.

"That's all I need to know." Dr. Hakamata's mouth is obscured behind that ridiculous denim collar, but dare he say it, the crease in his eyes makes it look he's smiling and not sneering like the world's prissiest bastard, for once.

Before Katsuki can cuss him out again, the tall doctor flaps a thin folder briefly in front of him and the stunned Deku and drops it at a nearby table. "Application forms," he explains, when neither of them can think of any coherent words to say. "Get this ready by next week, after which I expect you seven AM sharp in the doctor's call room the following Monday."

Katsuki makes a confused sound similar to a cat whose tail is being stepped on and blurts out, "What the f-are you shitting me?! It was pretty clear that Musutafu wasn't gonna take me back-"

"It can't be," stammers Deku, eyes wide. "D-do you mean that they changed their minds?"

"No," answers Best Jeanist plainly. "But you are being considered for a position as a pediatric surgery fellow here, in Hosu General Hospital with my highest recommendation."

Bakugou's jaw is hanging stupidly at this point, but thankfully his face is still covered by a mask.

"You have a lot of questions. We have a lot of details to iron out. I get it." Jeanist walks closer to him, voice unnervingly _gentle_ and mentoring and it's enough to disorient Katsuki. "All you have to know at this point is this: as unruly as you and your hair are, Dr. Bakugou, I have a lot of faith in you. You've proven that you can help a lot of people, and I would like to give you another chance to get you to the place where you can do that without people telling you that you can't."

A hand is placed on his shoulder without hesitation. It's weird, but that point of contact carries with it a surge of gratitude that his unruly self does not know how to handle.

"Hands off," he grumbles with a flinch. After rearranging his thoughts and trying not to explode from the sheer confusion of it all, he manages to mumble, "You aren't just shitting me, right? This chance is real, right?"

Dr. Hakamata, the Fucker Who Believes, shrugs. "All that's left is for you to take it."

He leaves the operating room after that. That piece of shit Deku starts to cry again and would have thrown his arms around Katsuki bawling if the blonde didn't shove him off with another threat. He babbles excitedly about Katsuki being back in action before he volunteers to take care of the patient, you know, so he could work on the forms.

Katsuki leaves without another word, head spinning from lack of sleep and confusion and outright _exhilaration_ and he does not know what to do about all of this. Folder in hand, he wanders the bright hallways of the hospital and somehow makes it to the room he left earlier.

He enters the room and finds Momo sleeping quietly on crisp, white sheets. She's still thin, the hospital gown loose around her shoulders. IV's still dripping quietly next to her bed. There's clutter next to her table: black coffee and flowers and packages of sweets probably brought by her friends, making her look like a proper patient who needs care.

Other than those trifling details, she looks absolutely _ethereal_ as she sleeps. Moonlight falls through glass and onto raven hair and lashes and onto pink lips that his eyes can't stop focusing on.

He drops on the chair next to the bed, quietly searches for her hand under the sheets. Holds it softly, firmly. Memorizes the shape of it against his.

Is this how it feels like to have things fall into place?

The surge of bothersome things don't stop. He tries to sleep and finds himself resting his head next to her lovely hand, and inhales her jasmine scent.

* * *

After another twenty-four hours spent entertaining noisy visitors (the noisiest of them being Tetsutetsu, who tells Momo of how he punched Nomus in steel form while riding at the back of Kendo's Harley-Davidson), eating hearty meals, and holding Katsuki's hand throughout the night, Momo is officially discharged from Hosu Gen with no other prescriptions than proper rest, a healthy diet, and exercise.

The code has been terminated for more than twenty-four hours now, with enough manpower to run the parts of the hospital not damaged by the attacks. Amajiki-senpai orders Momo to rest at home for another twenty-four hours despite her protests. This time, Katsuki doesn't fight back and drags her out of the hospital with his best efforts.

The sun hangs low over the city when Katsuki walks Momo back to her home across the street. Along the way, they see Kaminari and Jirou waving from inside the cafe. Besides the missing panes of glass and the repairs going around the street, they work as if nothing happened.

"'S a miracle they haven't burned the place down yet," grumbles Katsuki as he glares at them in acknowledgment.

Momo giggles. "Trust in them. They'll be running the cafe for you in two weeks, right?"

It's no exaggeration that her heart feels more than full hearing that Katsuki was offered a position in Hosu Gen, and he accepted it without an ounce of hesitation. She heard of the odd story involving Midoriya-san after it, and even though it involves some violence in their green-haired colleague's part, she promised herself to treat him to more meat pies from Monoma's out of sheer gratitude.

"Tch. Might as well say goodbye to it. If that pikashit runs it, it's goin' down in no time." It's odd, but there's a certain fondness to the way he says it. Momo knows that he's leaving his beloved cafe to them with a clear conscience.

In a short while they've made it to her building, and into her unit after that. She missed this place; she realizes this the moment she steps in. She missed her couch, her kitchen with her fridge full of take-out, her shower, her bed-

She feels Katsuki's forehead against the nape of her neck, feels his arms wrap around her torso. Feels the surge of warmth over her skin and all over her, inside out, when he kisses her and breathes words against her skin.

"What was that, Katsuki?" She turns around to look at him.

Once again she's reminded that he's here with her-warm, in one piece, breathing. Sense of purpose burning within. Moving forward with her.

Those eyes of his search hers in the sunlight-stained space between them, glinting like precious rubies.

He smiles in that intoxicatingly devilish way of his and puts his mouth over hers, repeating the three words in a murmur that resonates within her very soul. The words come out of nowhere and they surprise her, but she melts into them, melts into him so naturally, continuously learning that she feels the same way, and this is where she belongs.

She understands him and she tells him so, and kisses him back.

Now it feels like home.

-end-

* * *

 **AN:** And... it's almost a wrap. I'm planning a tiny lil epilogue to this, but yeah the story is mostly finished!

But juni, you may protest, what the actual fuck? aren't there lots of missing details? where are the nomus? is endeavor alive? what really happened to bakugou and deku? and what's this about robot suits? So let me just say: the missing details will be filled in the next parts of the series. Bakugou's story is closely linked to Midoriya's, and I really want to at least start that story next month, but as you may have noticed I'm fluctuating between weeks of insurmountable writer's block and sudden days of hyperfocus so! I cannot promise anything!

Thank you for reading this far into the story! I'll do my best to write more Bakumomo in the future because,,, i really like them huhu


End file.
